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THE  OX  TEAM 

OR  THE 

OLD  OREGON  TRAIL 

1852-1906 


A:<    Acc'iTNT    iiF   THK    AiTTHon's    Tnir    Acjjors 

•niK     1*LAI.\«,     FUO.U      IHK     JIISSUUKI     lilVKK     Tu 

I*i;<;kt    Sound,   at   tiik    Ack   ov   Twknty-two, 

WITH  AN  Ox  AND  ("OW  TKAM  IN  ^S^,2.    AND  uF 

His  Rktukn  with  an  Ox  Tkam  in  the  Year 
lOOti,  at  the  Ace  ok  Sevknty-six,  with 
Coi-ioLLS    Excerpts    Kuom    His    Juuknai,    and 

OTHEI:      ItELlABLE      SoUUCKS      OF      IN  l'\)HMATI(JN  ; 

A  Nauhative  oi-  Events  and  Desckii'tive  of 
Present    and     Past    Conditions         :         :         : 


By 

EZRA   MEEKER 

Author  of  Fionkkr  Kkminiscences  of  Pucif.t  Sound, 
The  Tragedy  of  Lkschi,  Hop  Culture  in  the 
United  States,  Washington  Territory 
West    of    the   Cascade    Moun- 
tains, Familiar  Talks— A 
Three     Years 
Serial. 

PRICE.  $1.00. 
Published  by  the  Author 

Omaha,  Neb. 


Copyright  uv 
EZRA    MEEKER 
All  Rights  Rkserved 

PUBLISHED   OCTOBER  1906. 


JACOB  NORTH  &  CO..  TRINTERS,  LINCOLN,  NEB. 


DEDICATION. 


To  the  Pioneers  who  fought  the  battle  of  peace, 
and  wrested  Oregon  from  British  rule,  this  l)()ok 
is  reverently  dedicated. 


2H I 25 : 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I. 
Fkum   Indiana  tu  Iowa. 
Early    Days    in    Indiana — The    Brimstone    Meeting-house— I'm 

Going-  to  be  a   I'armer — Off  for  Iowa — An   Iowa  AA'inter.  .      IH 

CHAPTER  II. 

Off  foe  Okegon. 

The  Start— First   Day   Out 22 

CHAPTER   III. 

Crossing   the    Missouri 28 

CHAPTER   IV. 
Out  ox  the  Plains. 
The    Indians — The    Ciiolera — Extent    of    Emigration — the    t'as- 

ualties     •^- 

ClIAPTER   V. 

The  Ilitiu  CouKT. 

Law    of    Self-Preservation — Capital    I'linishment 41 

CHAPTER   VI. 

The  Ox. 

The    Ox    Passing — The    Uattie    of    I'eaee 4.j 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Tin:   Ox    Tea.m    J'.iiigade  and  the   Cow   ('(H.i.m.n. 
Emigration    of     \S4:i — Horace    <;reeley's    Opinion— Cause    that 

Saved  Orej;on  from  P.rit'sh  Rule — Jesse  Aijplegate's   Epic.      49 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
Like  ox  the  Plains. 
Opening     the     Itoad     .Mode     of     Travel     in     18.")2 —Abandoned 
Properly — The  Cholera — The    Happy    Family- -Heroi(;    I'io- 
ncer    \Vomen — Hardship.s     00 

CHAPTER   IX. 

RiVEU   CltO.'^SlXUS. 

\\'agon  beds  as   i'.oats — Down  Snake  River   in   \Vagon-l»nxes.  .  .  .      74 

CIIAPTEIC    X. 

i;.\\A<:i:s  (If  'JIIE   Ciiiii,i;ii.\. 

The  «Jreat   Panic   7!) 

CHAl'Ti;U   XL 
The  Ox  Tea.m   Mommknt  Exi-editiux. 
The    Team-  Team    of    1 8."»2      'J"h<"    \\  agnn    -Camp    No.    L-  Turn 
watr-r,    War.hington      'I'ciiino    .MunuTTienl      Cenlralia,    Wash- 
ington     <'h<'lialis,      Wasliingloii,     ('lai|iialu.      Washington    - 
.la-ksoiis      T.ilcdd.  Washinuloi)       I'orl  land.  <  iicgiui 82 


g  CONTENTS. 

(•liArTKU    XII. 

Floating    Down    I  lie    Uivoi- 07 

CIIAi'TKU   XIII. 
TiiK  0.\   Te.vm  Monument  KxrEuiTioN   Cu.ntinued. 
Tlie    Dalles,    Oregon —Out    from    the    Dalles—  IVnUleton,    Ore- 
gon- The    Bfue   Mountains — Meaeham,    Oregon — La  Grand, 
Oregon — Ladd's   t'anyon  — Camp   No.   'M — Kaker  City,    Ore- 
gon— Old     Mount     Pleasant,      Oregon — Durkee.     Oregon — 

Huntington — Vale,    Oregon    lOG 

CIIAPTEU   XIV. 

The  Ox   Teaji  Monument   IOxi-editiox   Continued. 

Old     Fort    Boise — I'arnia,     Idaho — Iloise,     Idaho — Twin     Falls. 

Idaho — American     Falls,     Idaho — I'oeatello,     Idaho — Soda 

Springs.    Idaho — Montpelier,    Idaho — The    Mad    Bull — The 

Wounded    Buffalo — Cokeville,    Wyoming Iii2 

CHAI'TKU    XV. 
The  Ox  Team   Monument  Expedition  Continued. 
The    Kocky    Mountains — I'ac'tic    Springs— South    Pass    Monu- 
ment         131 

ClIAPTIOU    XVI. 
The   Ox   Tea.m    Monument   I-Ixi'edition   Continued. 

Sweetwater — Split    Uoek    139 

CIIAPTEU   XVII. 
The  Ox   Team   Monument  Expedition    Continued. 

The    Devil's    Gate    143 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The   Ox   Team  Monume.nt  Expedition   Continued. 
Independence   Kock — Fish  Creek — North    Platte   River — Casper, 
Wyoming — Glen      Rock — Douglas,      Wyoming — Puyallup — 

Tacoma — Seattle     148 

CIIAPTEU   XIX. 
The  Ox  Team    Monument   1<L\pedition   Continued. 
Fort  Laramie,  Wyoming — Scottsbluff — The  Dead  of   the   Plains 

— Chimney   Rock — North    I'latte,   Nebraska 163 

CHAPTER   XX. 
Obituary  Notice. 

Death    of-  Twist    170 

CHAPTER   XXI. 
The  Ox   Team   Monument  Expedition   Continued. 

Gothenburg,    Nebraska — Lexington    179 

CHAPTER    XXII. 
The  Ox   Team  Monument  Expedition  Concludkd. 

Kearney,   Nebraska — Grand    Island,   Nebraska 180 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 
A  Chapter  for  Children. 
The    Antelopes — Quarre]    Betw'een    .Tim    and    Dave — Jim's    Ad- 
venture  with   a    Wolf — About   I'uget    Sound 191 

CHAl'TER    XXIV. 
E.vKiA    Life    on    I'uget    Sound. 

Wild    Animals — The    Cougar — The    Morning    School 198 

CHAPTER   XXV. 

t,)uestions   and   Answers    217 

CHAI'TER    XXVI. 
Autobiography    of    tlie    Autlior 227 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Fkontispieck. 

At    Boise^    Idaho 10 

Granite  Monument  at   LIaker  City,  Orkcon 38 

Typical  Scene  Dedicating  a  Monument 48 

Ttcist   and    Dave 84 

Camp    No.    1 88 

At    Chehalis,    Washington 90 

Dedicating  Monument  at   The  Daeeks,  Washington 108 

Dedicating  Monument  at   I'endeeton,   Oregon 110 

(»!.D  Timers  at  Bakek  City,  Oregon 118 

I'liK  Oi-D  Oregon   Trail ^^■^^2 

UocKY    Mountain    Scenery 1."5;5 

Monument    at    South    I'ass VMi 

Devil's    Gate    1 44 

Independence    Kock    1">1 

At    Scotts    Bluff 100 

Mrs.    Rebecca    Winter's    Gkavi: 108 

Ciii.MNEY    Rock     IT- 

Breaking  the  Cows 1 8o 

( )N    THE    Bridge 1  !'4 

A    I'UGET    Sound    Pioneer    Cabin '.ilO 

Ve   (Ji.d   Meeker   IIo.mestead --0 


THE  OX  TEAM 

OR 

THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL 
18^2-1906 


INTRODUCTION  TO  AN  INTRODUCTION 


I  li;i(l  not.  until  the  last  inoiiieiit,  intended  to 
write  an  introdnetion,  nnless  my  readers  ac- 
(•e|>ted  the  writinj;  of  early  Indiana  life  as  such. 
Introdnetions  so  often  take  the  form  of  an  apol- 
ogy that  the  dear  pnblie  properly  omits  to  read 
them,  and  so  I  will  content  myself  with  the  re- 
mark that  this  reference  to  my  first  chapter  sliall 
answer  for  the  introduction,  for  which  I  olfer  no 
apology. 


CHAPTER  I. 

From  Indiana  to  Iowa. 
EARLY  DAYS  IN  INDIANA. 

J  N  THE  early  '50s,  out  four  and  a  half  and 
1  .seven  miles  respectively  from  Indianapolis, 
Indiana,  there  lived  two  young  people  with  their 
parents,  who  were  old-time  farmers  of  the  old 
style,  keeping-  no  "hired  man"  nor  buying  many 
''store  goods.-'  The  girl  could  spin  and  weave, 
iiialvc  delicious  butter,  knit  soft,  good  shapen 
socks,  and  cook  as  good  a  meal  as  any  other  coun- 
(ry  girl  around  about,  and  withal  as  buxom  a 
lass  as  had  ever  been  "'born  and  raised  there  (In- 
diana) all  her  life." 

These  were  times  when  sugar  sold  for  eighteen 
cents  per  pound,  calico  fifteen  cents  per  yard,  salt 
three  dollars  a  barrel,  and  all  other  goods  at  these 
comparatively  high  prices,  while  butter  would 
bring  but  ten  cents  a  pound,  eggs  five  cents  a 
dozen,  and  wheat  l)ut  two  bits  (twenty-five  cents) 
;i  l)iish('l.  And  so,  when  these  farmers  went  to 
the  market  town  ( lndianai>olis)  care  was  taken 
to  carry  along  something  to  sell,  either  some  eggs 


14  Tin;    ox    TKA^NI    OK 

or  butter  or  perhaps  a  half  dozeu  pairs  of  socks 
or  maybe  a  few  yards  of  cloth,  as  well  as  Some 
grain,  or  hay  or  a  bit  of  pork,  or  possibly  a  load 
of  wood,  to  make  ends  meet  at  the  store. 

The  young  man  was  a  little  uncouth  in  appear- 
ance, round-faced,  rather  stout  in  build — almost 
fat, — a  little  boisterous,  always  restless,  and 
without  a  very  good  address,  yet  with  at  least 
one  redeeming  trait  of  character:  he  loved  his 
work  and  was  known  as  industrious  a  lad  as  any 
in  the  neighborhood. 

THE  BRIMSTONE  MEETING-HOUSE. 

These  }ouug  people  would  sometimes  meet  at 
the  '''r)rimstoue  meeting-house,"  a  Methodist 
church  known  by  that  name  far  and  wide;  so 
named  by  the  unregenerate  because  of  the  oi)en 
preaching  of  endless  torment  to  follow  nou- 
chureh  members  and  sinners  to  the  grave — a  lit- 
eral lake  of  lire,  taught  with  vehemence  and 
accompanied  with  boisterous  scenes  of  shoutiug 
of  those  who  were  "saved."  Amid  these  scenes 
and  these  surroundings  these  two  young  people 
grew  up  to  the  age  of  manhood  and  womanhood, 
knowing  but  little  of  the  world  outside  of  their 
home  sphere, — and  who  knows  but  as  happy  as 


TtlE    OJ.I)   OUKGON    TRAIL  15 

if  they  bad  seeu  tho  whole  world?  Had  they  not 
experienced  the  joy  a  of  the  sugar  camp  while 
"stirring  oW  the  lively  creeping  maple  sugar? 
Both  had  been  thnniped  upon  the  bare  head  by 
the  falling  liickor\-  nuts  in  windy  weather;  had 
hunted  the  black  walnuts  half  hidden  in  the 
leaves;  had  scraped  the  ground  for  the  elusive 
beach  nuts,  had  even  ventured  to  apple  parings 
together,  though  not  yet  out  of  their  "teens.'' 
The  lad  hunted  llie  "])ossuui  and  the  coon  in  the 
White  river  bottom,  now  the  suburb  of  the  city 
of  Indianapolis,  and  had  cut  even  the  stately. wal- 
nut trees,  now  so  valuable  (extinct  in  fact)  that 
the  cunning  coon  uiiglit  be  driven  from  his  hiding 
place. 

I'M  GOING  TO  BE  A  FARMER. 

"I'm  going  to  be  a  farmer  when  I  get  married," 
the  young  man  (piite  abrui>lly  said  one  «hiy  to 
the  lass,  witiiout  any  ])revious  conversation  to 
lead  u]»  to  such  an  assertion,  lo  lire  confusion  of 
his  coiiiitauioii,  who  couhl  uoi  mistake  the 
1h( Mights  tiia<  promjtied  tlie  words.  A  few  mouths 
later  the  lass  said,  ''Y<'s,  1  want  to  be  a  farmer, 
too,  but  I  want  to  be  a  farmer  on  onr  own  land," 
and  two  bargains  were  confirmed  then  and  there 
when  the  bid  said,  ^'NVe  will  go  west  and  not  live 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRML  IT 

ou  pap's  farm."  "Nor  in  the  old  cabin,  nor  any 
cabin  unless  it's  our  own,"  came  the  response, 
and  so  the  resolution  was  made  that  they  would 
go  to  Iowa,  get  some  land,  and  grow  up  with  the 
country, 

OFF  FOR  IOWA. 

About  the  first  week  of  October,  1851,  a  cov- 
ered wagon  drew  up  in  front  of  Thomas  Sumner's 
habitation,  then  but  four  miles  out  from  Indian- 
apolis on  the  National  road,  ready  to  be  loaded 
for  the  start.  Eliza  Jane,  the  second  daughter 
of  that  noble  man,  the  "lass"  described,  then  the 
wife  of  the  young  man  mentioned,  the  author, 
was  ready,  with  cake  and  apple  butter  and  pump- 
kin  i>ies,  jellies  and  the  like,  enough  to  last  the 
whole  trip  and  plenty  besides.  Not  much  of  a 
load,  to  !)('  sure,  but  it  was  all  we  had:  plenty  of 
]»hiukets,  a  good  old-fashioned  feather  bed,  a  good 
sized  Dutch  oven,  an<l  each  an  extra  pair  of  slioes 
and  cloth  for  two  new  dresses  for  the  wife,  and 
for  an  extra  pair  of  ]»ants  for  the  husband. 

Tears  could  be  restrained  no  longer  as  I  lie 
loading  progressed  and  tlu^  stern  realization 
faced  the  parents  of  bo<li  that  the  young  coui)le 
were  about  to  leave  them. 


18  THE    OX   TJOAM    OR 

'^Wby,  iiiotlier,  we  are  only  going  out  to  Iowa, 
you  know,  where  we  can  get  a  home  that  shall  be 
our  o\\n;  it's  not  so  very  far — only  about  500 
miles." 

''Yes,  I  kno^^',  Init  suppose  you  get  sick  in  that 
uninhabited  country — who  will  eare  for  you?" 

Notwithstanding  this  motherly  solicitude,  the 
young  people  could  not  fail  to  know  there  was  a 
secret  feeling  of  approval  in  the  good  woman's 
breast,  and  when,  after  a  few  miles'  travel,  the 
I'eluctant  final  parting  came,  could  not  then  know 
that  this  loved  parent  would  lay  down  her  life  a 
tew  years  later  in  an  heroic  attempt  to  follow  the 
wanderers  to  Oregon,  and  that  her  bones  would 
rest  in  an  unknown  and  unmarked  grave  of  the 
Platte  valley. 

Of  that  October  drive  from  the  home  near  In- 
dianapolis to  Eddyville,  Iowa,  in  the  delicious 
(.shall  I  say  d(^licious,  for  what  other  word  ex- 
presses it?)  atmosjUiere  of  an  Indian  sumiuer, 
and  in  the  atmosphere  of  hope  and  content ;  hope 
born  of  aspirations — content  with  our  lot,  born 
of  a  confidence  for  the  future,  what  shall  I  say? 
^^Mlat  matter  if  ^ye  had  but  a  few  dollars  in 
money  and  but  few  belongings;  we  had  the  wide 
world  before  us ;  we  had  good  health ;  and  before 


TUE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  19 

and  above  all  we  had  each  other  and  were  su- 
premely happy,  and  rich  in  our  anticipations. 

At  that  time  but  one  railroad  entered  Indian- 
apolis— it  would  be  called  a  tramway  now, — from 
Madison  on  the  Ohio  river,  and  when  we  cut  loose 
from  that  embryo  city  we  left  railroads  behind 
us,  except  such  as  were  found  in  the  wagon  track 
where  the  rails  were  laid  crossways  to  keep  the 
wagon  out  of  the  mud.  What  matter  if  the  road 
was  rough,  we  could  go  a  little  slower,  and  then 
would  n't  w(^  have  a  better  appetite  for  our  sup- 
per because  of  the  jolting,  and  would  n't  we  sleep 
a  little  soiuKler  for  it?  And  so  everytliing  in  all 
the  world  looked  bright,  and  what  little  mishaps 
<li(l  befall  us  were  looked  upon  with  light  hearts, 
that  they  might  have  Innm  worse. 

The  great  Mississip])i  river  was  crossed  at,  Uiir- 
liiigtou,  or,  rather,  we  eiiibark<'d  several  miles 
down  the  river  and  were  can-ied  up  to  Hie  lauding 
at  llnrlington,  and  after  a  few  days'  further  driv- 
ing landed  in  Eddyville,  Iowa,  destiiu'd  to  be 
only  a  ])lace  to  winter,  :iii<i  a  way  station  on  our 
route  lo  ( )reg()n. 

AN  IOWA  WINTER. 

My  lirst  iiil  i-odiid  ion  to  nn  lo\\;i  winlei-  wms 
in  M  sni-Ncyoi-'s  ciinip  on   (he  \\cstei-ri   borders  of 


20  THE    OX    TEAM   OR 

the  state,  a  little  way  north  of  Kauesville  (now 
Council  Blutfs),  as  cook  of  the  party,  which  po- 
sition was  speedily  changed  and  that  of  flagman 
assigned  me. 

If  there  are  any  settlers  now  left  of  the  Iowa 
of  that  day  (fifty-five  years  ago)  they  will  re- 
member the  winter  was  bitter  cold — the  coldest 
within  the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant.  On 
my  trip  back  from  the  surveying  party  just  men- 
tioned to  Eddyville,  just  before  Christmas,  I  en- 
countered one  of  those  cold  days  long  to  be  re- 
membered. A  companion  named  Vance  rested 
with  me  over  night  in  a  cabin,  with  scant  food 
for  ourselves  or  the  mare  we  led.  It  was  thirty- 
five  miles  to  the  next  cabin;  we  must  reach  that 
place  or  lay  out  on  the  snow.  So  a  very  early 
start  was  made,  before  daybreak  while  the  wind 
lay.  The  good  lady  of  the  calun  baked  some 
biscuits  for  a  noon  lunch,  but  they  were  frozen 
solid  in  our  pockets  before  we  had  been  out  two 
hours.  Tlie  wind  rose  with  the  sun,  and  with 
the  sun  two  bright  sun-dogs,  one  on  each  side, 
and  alongside  of  each,  but  slightly  less  bright, 
another, — a  beautiful  sight  to  behold,  but  arising 
from  conditions  intolerable  to  bear.  Vance  came 
near  freezing  to  death,  and  would  had  I  not  sue- 


THE    OLD   OUEGON    TRAIL  21 

ceeded  iu  aroiisiug  liiiii  to  anger  aud  gotten  liim 
ott"  the  mare. 

1  vowed  then  and  there  I  did  not  like  the  Iowa 
climate,  and  the  Oregon  fever  was  visibly  quick- 
ened. Besides,  if  I  went  to  Oregon  the  govern- 
ment gave  us  o'2[)  acres  of  land,  while  in  Iowa  we 
would  have  to  purchase  it, — at  a  low  price,  to  be 
sure,  but  it  must  be  bought  and  paid  for  on  the 
spot.  There  were  no  preemption  or  beneficent 
homestead  laws  iu  force  then,  and  not  until  many 
years  later.  The  country  was  a  wide  open,  roll- 
ing prairie,  a  beautiful  countr}'  indeed, — but 
what  about  a  market?  JSo  railroads,  no  wagon 
roads,  no  cities,  no  meeting-houses,  no  schools; 
tlie  prospect  looked  drear.  How  easy  it  is  for 
out;  when  his  mind  is  once  bent  against  a  country 
to  conjure  up  all  sorts  of  reasons  to  bolster  his, 
IK'rhaps,  liasty  conclusions;  and  so  Iowa  was  con- 
demned as  unsuited  to  our  life  abiding  place. 

J5ut  what  about  going  to  Oregon  when  spring- 
time cam*'?  An  interesting  event  was  pending 
that  reiKh  red  a  positive  decision  impossible  for 
Wut  moment,  and  not  until  the  first  week  of  A]n'il, 
ls,")L',  ^^lH•u  oni-  first -Itoi-n  baby  boy  Avas  a  month 
(»I<I,  coiild  we  say  that  we  were  going  to  ()reg(ni 
in  l.sr)2. 


I'l  TIIK    OX    TEAM    Oil 

CHAPTER  II. 

Off  foe  Oregon, 

I  HAVE  been  asked  hundreds  of  times  how 
many  wagons  were  in  the  train  I  traveled 
with,  and  what  train  it  was,  and  who  Avas  the 
captain,  assuming  that  of  conrse  Ave  mnst  be  with 
some  train. 

THE  START. 

When  we  dro^-e  ont  of  Edd^^ville  tliere  was  bnt 
one  wagon  in  onr  train,  two  voice  of  fonr-year-old 
steers,  one  yoke  of  cows,  and  one  extra  cow. 
This  cow  A^'as  the  only  animal  we  lost  on  the 
whole  trip:  strayed  in  the  Missouri  river  bottom 
before  crossing. 

And  now  as  to  the  personnel  of  our  little  party. 
William  lUick,  who  became  my  partner  for  the 
trip,  was  a  man  six  3  ears  my  senior,  had  had  some 
experience  on  the  Plains,  and  knew  Avell  as  to  an 
outfit  needed,  l)ut  had  no  knowledge  as  to  a  team 
of  cattle.  He  \\'as  an  impulsive  man  and  to  some 
extent  excitalde,  yet  withal  a  man  of  excellent 
jndguient  and  as  honest  as  God  Almighty  makes 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  23 

men.  So  lazy  bone  occupied  a  place  in  Buck's 
body.  He  was  so  scrupulously-  neat  and  cleanly 
that  some  might  say  he  was  fastidious,  but  such 
was  not  the  case.  His  aptitude  for  the  camp 
work  and  unfitness  for  handling  the  team,  at 
once,  as  we  might  say  by  natural  selection,  di- 
vided the  cares  of  the  household,  sending  the 
married  man  to  the  range  with  the  team  and  the 
bachelor  to  the  camp.  The  little  wife  was  in 
ideal  health,  and  almost  as  "particular"  as  Buck 
(not  ([uite  though),  while  the  young  husband 
would  be  a  little  more  on  the  slouchy  order,  if 
the  reader  will  pardon  the  use  of  that  word, 
ilioiigli  more  expressive  than  elegant. 

Hiick  sele<t<Hl  the  (mtfit  to  go  into  the  wagon, 
w  hile  1  fitted  up  the  wagon  and  bought  the  team. 

We  liad  butter,  packed  in  the  center  of  the 
fioiii-  ill  double  sacks;  eggs  packed  in  corn  meal 
or  Hour,  to  last  us  nearly  five  hundred  miles; 
fruit  in  abundance,  and  dried  pumpkins;  a  little 
jerked  beef,  not  too  salt,  and  last,  a  demijohn  of 
brandy  for  "iiie<liciiial  ]>urposes  only,"  as  he  said, 
wiih  a  mei-ry  t  wiiikb'  of  the  eye  tliat  exposed  the 
subterfuge  wliicli  be  knew  1  knew  wit  bout  any 
sign.      Tbe    little    wife   bad    pre|»ai'ed    tbe   lioiiie- 

llKlde    \c;isl    (ake    W  lljcll   she    klieW    so    wcll    lloW    lo 


24  THE    ox   TEX^l    OK 

make  and  dry,  and  we  had  light  bread  all  the 
way,  baked  in  a  tin  reflector  instead  of  the  heavy 
Dutch  oven«  so  much  in  use  on  the  Plains. 

Albeit  the  butter  to  a  considerable  extent 
melted  and  mingled  with  the  flour,  yet  we  were 
not  much  disconcerted  as  the  short-cake  that  fol- 
lowed made  us  almost  glad  the  mishap  had  oc- 
curred. Besides,  did  we  not  have  plenty  of  fresli 
butter  churned  every  day  in  the  can,  by  the  jostle 
of  the  wagon,  from  our  own  cows?  Then  the 
buttermilk.  AMiat  a  luxury,  yes,  that's  the  word, 
a  real  luxury,  I  will  never,  so  long  as  I  live,  for- 
get tliat  short-cake  and  corn  bread,  the  puddings 
and  pumpkin  pies,  and  above  all  the  buttermilk. 
The  reader  who  may  smile  at  this  may  well  recall 
th(^  fact  that  it  is  the  small  things  that  make  up 
the  happiness  of  life. 

But  it  was  more  than  that.  As  we  gradually 
crept  out  on  the  Plains  and  saw  the  sickness  an<l 
suffering  caused  by  improper  food  and  in  some 
cases  from  improper  preparation,  it  gradually 
dawned  on  me  how  blessed  I  was,  with  such  a 
partner  as  Buck  and  such  a  life  partner  as  the 
little  wife.  Some  trains,  it  soon  transpired,  were 
without  fruit,  and  most  of  them  depended  upon 
saleratus  for  raising  their  bread.    Many  had  only 


THK   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  25 

fat  bacon  for  iiieat  till  the  buffalo  supplied  a 
change,  and  uo  doubt  but  much  of  the  sickness 
attributed  to  the  cholera  was  caused  by  an  ill- 
suited  diet. 

I  am  willing  to  claim  credit  for  the  team,  every 
hoof  of  M'hich  reached  the  Coast  in  safety.  Four 
four-^ear-old  steers  and  two  cows  were  sufficient 
for  our  light  wagon  and  light  outfit,  not  a  pound 
of  which  but  was  useful  (except  the  brandy,  of 
which  more  anon)  and  necessary  for  our  com- 
foi't.  Not  one  of  these  had  ever  been  under  the 
yoke,  lliough  i)l('nty  of  "broke"  oxen  could  be  had, 
but  gcuei-ally  of  that  class  that  had  been  broken 
in  spirit  as  well  as  in  training,  so,  when  we  got 
across  the  river  with  the  cattle  strung  out  to  the 
wagon  with  Buck  on  the  off  side  to  watch,  while 
1,  figuratively  si)eaking,  took  the  reins  in  hand, 
we  may  have  presented  a  ludici'ous  sight,  ]»ut  di<l 
iioi  liave  time. to  think  whether  w(;  did  or  n(>l, 
and  ciii-ed  hul   little  so  the  teaui   would  go. 

FIRST  DAY  OUT. 

Tlie  lli'st  (hiy's  drive  out  from  Kddyville  was  a 
short  one,  aii<l  so  far  as  I  now  remember  the  only 
one  on  tlie  whole  ti'ip  wiiei-e  the  cattle  were  al- 
l(»\\('(|    to   stand    ill    the    \<)ke    while    the   owners 


26  THE   OX    TEAM   OK 

lunched  aud  rested.  I  made  it  a  rule,  no  matter 
how  short  the  noon  time,  to  unyoke  and  let  the 
cattle  rest  or  eat  while  we  rested  and  ate,  and  on 
the  present  1906  trip  have  rigidly  adhered  to 
that  rule. 

An  amusing  scene  was  enacted  when,  at  near 
nightfall,  the  first  camp  was  made.  Buck  excit- 
edly insisted  we  must  not  unyoke  the  cattle. 
"Well,  what  shall  Ave  do?"  I  said;  "they  can't 
live  in  the  yoke  alv.ays;  we  will  have  to  unyoke 
them  sometimes." 

"Yes,  but  if  you  unyoke  here  you  will  never 
catch  them  again."  One  word  brought  on  an- 
other, till  tlie  war  of  words  had  almost  reached 
the  stag(^  of  a  disput<^,  when  a  stranger,  Thomas 
^icAuh'V,  who  was  camped  near  by,  with  a  twin- 
kle in  his  e^e  I  often  afterwards  saw  and  will 
always  remend)er,  interfered  and  said  his  cattle 
were  gentle  and  there  were  three  men  of  his 
party  and  that  they  would  help  us  yoke  up  in 
the  morning.  I  gratefully  accepted  his  proffered 
help,  speedily  unyoked,  and  ever  after  that  never 
a  word  with  the  merest  semblance  of  contention 
passed  between  Buck  and  myself. 

Scanning  McAuley's  outfit  the  next  morning  I 
was  (luite   troubled   to  start   out  with   him,   his 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  li  < 

teams  being  light,  principally  cows,  and  thin  in 
th'sh,  with  wagons  apparently  light  and  as  frail 
as  the  teams.  But  I  soon  found  that  his  outfit, 
like  ours,  .contained  no  extra  weight;  that  he 
Icnew  how  to  care  for  a  team ;  and  was  withal  an 
obliging  neighbor,  as  was  fully  demonstrated  on 
nuiny  trying  occasions,  after  having  traveled  in 
company  for  more  than  a  thousand  miles,  and 
until  his  road  to  California  parted  from  ours,  at 
the  big  bend  of  ]>ear  river. 

Of  the  trip  through  Iowa  little  remains  to  be 
said  further  than  that  the  grass  was  thin  an<l 
A\ashy,  the  roads  muddy  and  slippery,  and 
weather  execrable,  although  May  had  been  ush- 
ered in  long  before  we  reached  the  Missouri 
river. 


28  THE    OX    TEAM    OR 

(llAPTEK  111. 

Crossing  the  Missouri. 

WHAT  ou  earth  is  lliat?"  exclaimed  Mar- 
garet McAuley  as  we  approached  the 
ferry  landing  a  few  miles  below  where  Omaha 
now  stands. 

"It  looks  for  all  the  world  like  a  great  big 
white  liatiron/'  answered  Eliza,  the  .sister, 
"doesn't  it,  Mrs,  Meeker?"  But,  leaving  the 
women  folks  to  their  similes,  we  drivers  turned 
our  attention  more  to  the  teams  as  we  encoun- 
tered the  roads  "cut  all  to  pieces"  on  account  of 
the  concentrated  travel  as  we  neared  the  landing 
and  the  solid  phalanx  of  wagons  that  formed 
the  flatiron  of  white  ground. 

We  here  encountered  a  sight  indeed  long  to 
be  remembered.  The  "tlatiron  of  white"  that 
Eliza  had  seen  proved  to  be  wagons  with  their 
tongues  pointing  to  the  landing — a  center  train 
with  other  parallel  trains  extending  back  in  the 
rear  and  gradually  covering  a  wider  space  the 
farther  back  from  the  river  one  would  go.  Sev- 
eral  liundred   wagons   were   thus   closely   inter- 


THE   OLD   OUEGON    TKAIL  29 

lofki'd,  (-ompletelv  blocking'  the  approach  to  the 
landing  by  new  arrivaLs,  whether  in  companies 
or  .single.  All  round  about  were  camps  of  all 
kinds,  from  those  without  covering  of  any  kind 
to  others  with  comfortable  tents,  nearly  all  seem- 
ingly intent  on  merrymaking,  while  here  and 
tliere  were  small  groups  engaged  in  devotional 
services,  ^^'e  soon  ascertained  these  camps  con- 
tained tlie  outfits  in  great  part  of  the  wagons  in 
line  in  the  great  white  tlatirou,  some  of  whom 
had  Itccu  lliere  for  two  weeks  witli  no  apparent 
jirobability  of  securing  an  early  crossing.  At 
tile  turl)ulent  river  front  the  turbid  waters  had 
already  swallowed  up  three  victims,  one  of  whom 
I  saw  go  under  ilic  di-ift  of  a  snmll  island  as  I 
sKxMJ  near  liis  siii-ieking  wife  the  first  day  we 
wci-e  tliere.  Two  scows  were  engaged  in  cross- 
ing I  lie  wagons  and  teams.  In  this  case  the  stock 
had  rushed  1o  one  side  of  the  boat,  submei'ged 
llic  gunwale,  and  pi'ecipitated  the  whole  contents 
into  the  dangerous  i-ivei-.  One  yoke  of  oxen,  hav- 
ing i-ea(he(|  ihe  liii'dier  slio]-e,  del i bera I ely  eii- 
lei-ed  the  i-i\cr  with  a  heavy  yok(i  on  and  swam 
lo  Ihe  lo\\;i  side,  ;md  were  finally  saved  by  tlie 
helping  lijinds  of  the  jissiMubled  emigi*ants. 

''What    slioubl    we    do?"    wns    |>;isse(i    nrouiid. 
uithoni    nnswci'.      Tom    .MeAule\     was    not     vet 


30  THE   OX   TEAM    OR  i 

looked  upon  as  a  leader,  as  was  the  case  later. 
The  sister  Margaret,  a  most  detemiiued  maideu 
lad} ,  the  oldest  of  the  party  and  as  resolute  and 
brave  as  the  bravest,  said  to  build  a  boat.  JUit  of 
what  should  we  l)uild  it?  While  this  questiou 
\\'as  under  consideration  and  a  search  for  nuite- 
rial  nuule,  one  of  our  party,  who  had  gotten 
across  the  river  in  search  of  timber  for  oars,  dis- 
covered a  scoA\'  almost  com])letely  1)uried,  on  the 
sand  spit  opposite  the  landing,  "only  just  a  small 
l)it  of  the  railing  and  a  corner  of  the  boat  vis- 
ible.'' The  report  schemed  to  be  too  good  to  be 
tru(\  The  next  thing  to  do  was  to  find  the  owner, 
which  in  a  search  of  a  day  Ave  did,  eleven  miles 
down  th(^  river.  "Yes,  if  you  will  stipulate  to  de- 
liver the  boat  safely  to  me  after  crossing  your  five 
wagons  and  teams,  you  can  have  it,"  said  the 
owner,  and  a  bargain  AAas  closed  right  then  and 
there.  My !  but  did  n't  we  make  the  sand  fly  that 
night  from  that  boat?  IVv  iiiorning  we  could  be- 
gin to  see  the  end.  Then  Itusy  hands  began  to 
cut  a  landing  on  the  perpendicular  sandy  bank 
on  the  loAva  side;  others  were  preparing  sweeps, 
and  all  was  bustle  and  stir  and  I  might  say 
excitement. 

By  this  time  it  had  become  noised  around  that 
another  boat  would  be  put  on  to  ferry  people 


THE    OLn    OKECJON    TKAIL  31 

over,  and  we  \\<'rL'  besici^cd  with  applications 
from  detained  emigrants.  Final]}',  tlu^  word 
coming  to  the  ears  of  the  ferrymen,  they  were 
foolish  enough  to  undertake  to  prevent  us  from 
crossing  ourselves.  A  writ  of  replevin  or  some 
other  process  was  issued,  I  never  knew  exactly 
what,  directing  the  sheriff  to  take  possession  of 
the  boat  when  landed  and  which  he  attempted 
to  do.  I  never  before  nor  since  attempted  to 
resist  an  officer  of  the  law,  nor  joined  to  accom- 
plish anything  by  force  outside  the  pale  of  the 
law,  but  when  that  sheriff  put  in  an  appearance 
and  we  n^alized  what  it  meant,  there  was  n't  a 
man  in  our  party  that  did  not  run  for  his  gun  to 
the  nearby  camp,  and  it  would  seem  needless  to 
add  we  did  not  need  to  use  them.  As  if  by  magic 
a  liuudred  guns  were  in  sight.  The  sheriff  with- 
drew, and  the  crossing  went  peaceably  on  till  all 
our  wagons  were  safely  landed.  But  Ave  had  an- 
other danger  to  face:  we  canu;  to  know  there 
Avould  be  an  attempt  to  tak(!  the  l)oat  from  us, 
uot  as  against  us,  l)\it  against  the  owner,  and  bnt 
foi-  the  jidiM.il  ii!;iii:ig('iii('iil  of  .McAiilcv  and  my 
brother  Oliver,  wlio  had  joined  us,  \\o.  woubl  have; 
been  unable  to  fulfil  <Mir  engagements  with  the 
owner. 


32  THE    UX    TEAM    UR 


CHAPTER  IV. 
Out  on  the  Plains. 
THE  INDIANS. 
S  SOON  as  a  part  of  our  outfits  were  lauded 


A 


on  the  right  bank  of  the  river  our  trouble 
with  the  Indians  began,  not  as  in  open  hostilities, 
but  in  robbery  under  the  guise  of  beg•g•ar3^  The 
word  had  been  passed  around  in  our  little  party 
that  not  one  cent's  worth  of  x>i'ovisions  would  we 
give  up  to  the  Indians,  believing  this  policy  was 
our  only  safeguard  from  spoliation,  and  in  that 
we  were  right.  The  women  folks  had  been  sent 
over  the  river  with  the  first  wagon,  and  sent  off 
a  little  wa}'  to  a  convenient  camp,  so  that  the 
first  show  of  arms  came  from  that  side  of  our 
little  community,  when  some  of  the  bolder  Paw- 
nees attempted  to  pilfer  around  the  wagons.  l>ut 
no  blood  was  slied,  and  I  may  say  in  passing  there 
was  none  shed  by  any  of  our  ])arty  during  the 
whole  trip,  though  tlun-c  did  come  a  show  of 
arras  in  several  instances. 

One  case  in  particular  I  nMuemlter.    Soon  after 
we  had  left  the  Missouri  river  we  came  to  a  small 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  33 

bridge  over  a  washout  across  the  road,  evidently 
constructed  but  very  recently  by  some  train  just 
ahead  of  us.  The  Indians  had  taken  possession 
and  demanded  pay  for  crossing.  Some  ahead  of 
us  had  paid,  while  others  were  hesitating,  but 
with  a  few  there  was  a  determined  resolution  not 
to  pay.  AVhen  our  party  came  up  it  remained 
for  that  fearless  man,  INIcAuley,  in  quite  short 
order  to  clear  the  way  though  the  Indians  were 
there  in  considerable  nundjers.  ]NrcAuley  said, 
''You  fellers  come  right  on,  for  I  'm  going  across 
that  bridge  if  I  have  to  run  right  over  that  Ingen 
settin'  there."  And  he  did  almost  run  over  the 
Indian,  who  at  the  last  moment  got  out  of  the 
way  of  his  team,  which  was  followed  in  such 
(liiick  succession  and  with  such  show  of  arms  the 
Indians  ^^•ithdrew  and  left  the  road  unobstructed. 
^y('  did  not,  however,  have  much  trouble  with 
the  Indians  in  1852.  The  facts  are  the  great 
imiiibers  of  tbe  emigrants,  coupled  with  the  sii- 
])eriority  of  their  arms,  placed  them  on  compara- 
tively safe  grounds.  And  it  must  be  remember(»d, 
•ilso,  that  this  wns  before  the  treaty-making  pe- 
riod, wliicli  bus  so  often  Ik'cii  followed  l)y  blood- 
slied  ;iiid  war. 


34  THE    OX   TEAM    OK 

lUit  to  iTtiirn  to  the  river  bank.  We  crossed 
ou  the  17th  and  18th  of  May  aud  drove  out  a 
short  way  on  the  19th,  but  not  far  enough  to  be 
out  of  hearing  of  a  shrill  steamboat  whistle  that 
resounded  over  the  prairie,  announcing  the  ar- 
rival of  a  steamer.  I  never  knew  the  size  of  that 
steamer,  or  the  name,  but  only  know  that  a  dozen 
A\'agons  or  more  could  be  crossed  at  one  time, 
and  that  a  dozen  or  more  trips  could  be  made 
during  the  day,  and  as  many  at  night,  and  that 
we  were  overtaken  by  this  throng  of  a  thousand 
wagons  thrown  upon  the  road,  that  gave  us  some 
trouble  and  much  discomfort. 

THE  CHOLERA. 

And  now  that  we  were  fairly  on  the  way  the 
whole  atmosphere,  so  to  speak,  seemed  changed. 
Instead  of  the  discordant  violin  and  more  dis- 
cordant voices,  A\ith  the  fantastic  night  open-air 
dances,  with  mother  earth  as  a  floor,  there  soon 
prevailed  a  more  sober  mien,  even  among  the 
young  people,  as  they  began  to  encounter  the 
fatigue  of  a  day's  drive  and  the  cares  of  a  night 
watch.  ^Wih  so  many,  the  watchword  Avas  to 
push  ahead  and  make  as  big  a  day's  drive  as  pos- 
sible, it   is  not   to  be  wondered  at  that  nearly 


THE    OLD   OKI<]GON    TRAIL  35 

the  whole  of  the  thousand  wagous  that  crossed 
the  river  after  we  did  soou  passed  us. 

"Now,  fellers,  jist  let  'eui  rush  ou,  and  keep 
cool,  we  '11  overcatch  them  afore  long,"  said  Mc- 
Aulev.  And  we  did,  and  passed  many  a  broken- 
(hj\\ii  team,  the  result  of  that  tirst  few  days  of 
I'ush.  It  Avas  this  class  that  unloaded  such  piles 
of  provisions,  noted  elseAvhere,  in  the  first  two- 
hundred-mile  stretch,  and  that  fell  such  easy 
l>r<n'  to  the  ravages  of  the  epidemic  of  cholera 
that  struck  tlie  moving  column  Avhere  the  throng 
from  the  south  side  of  the  Platte  began  crossing. 
As  I  recollect  this,  it  must  have  been  near  where 
I  lie  city  of  Kearney  now  stands,  which  is  about 
two  hundred  miles  west  of  the  Missouri  river. 
^V^^  liad  been  in  the  buffalo  country  several  days, 
and  some  of  our  young  men  had  had  the  keen 
edge  of  the  hunting  zeal  worn  off  by  a  day's  ride 
ill  the  heat,  a  numl)er  of  whom  were  sick  from 
I  lie  clfecls  of  ovcrhealing  and  indiscreet  drink- 
ing of  iiii]»iii-(*  water.  Such  an  experience  camc^ 
\i\i(lly  liomc  to  me  in  tlie  case  of  my  brother 
Oliver,  wlio  bad  oiiHided  witli  our  Iloosier 
friends  neai*  Indiamipolis.  Init  lia<l  ci-ossed  tb<' 
Missoni'i  river  in  eoiii|>;iny  wiUi  us.  IJeing  of  an 
;i<l\(iit  iii-oiis  spiiil.  lie  could  iiof   resd-ain  his  ar- 


36  THE    OX    TEAM   OR 

dor,  aud  gave  chase  to  the  buffaloes,  and  fell  sick 
almost  unto  death.  This  occurred  just  at  the 
time  when  we  liad  encountered  the  cholera  panic, 
and  of  course  it  must  be  the  cholera  that  had 
seized  him  with  such  an  iron  grip,  argued  some 
of  his  companions.  His  old-time  comrades  and 
neighbors,  all  but  two,  said  they  could  not  delay. 
I  said,  "It  \s  certain  death  to  take  him  along  in 
that  condition,"  which  they  admitted  was  true. 
"Divide  the  outfit,  then!"  The  Davenport 
brothers  said  they  Avould  not  leave  my  brother, 
aud  so  their  portion  of  the  outfit  Avas  put  out 
also,  Avliich  gave  tlie  three  a  wagon  and  team. 
Turning  to  Buck,  I  said,  "I  can't  ask  you  to  stay 
with  me."  The  answer  came  back  quick  as  a 
Hash,  "I  am  going  to  stay  with  you  without  ask- 
ing," and  he  did,  too,  though  my  brother  was  al- 
most a  total  stranger.  AVe  nursed  the  sick  man 
for  four  days  amidst  scenes  of  excitement  and 
death  I  hope  never  to  witness  again,  with  the  re- 
sult that  on  the  fifth  day  Ave  were  able  to  go  on 
and  take  the  convalescent  with  us  and  thus  saved 
his  life.  It  Avas  at  this  point  the  sixteen  hundred 
Avagons  passed  us  as  noted  elscAvhere  in  the  four- 
days  detention,  and  loose  stock  so  numerous  Ave 
made  no  attempt  to  count  or  estimate  them. 


THE    OLD    UKEGON    TRAIL  37 

Of  course  this  iueideut  is  of  no  special  iiiipor- 
taucc,  cxce]jt  to  illustrate  what  life  lueaut  iu 
those  sti'cuuous  days.  The  experieuce  of  that 
camp  ^^ as  the  experieuce,  1  uiay  say,  of  hundreds 
of  others,  of  friends  parting,  of  desertion,  of  no- 
ble sacrifice,  of  where  the  best  and  worst  of  the 
inner  man  was  shown.  Like  the  dissolving  clouds 
of  a  lu'ightening  sumiiier  day,  the  trains  seemed 
to  dissolve  and  disappear,  while  no  one  seemed 
\(>  know  what  had  become  of  their  component 
parts,  or  whither  they  had  gone. 

Tlu^re  did  seem  instances  that  would  convert 
th(^  most  ske]>tical  to  the  Presbyterian  doctrine 
of  total  dejiravity,  so  brutal  and  selfish  were  the 
jictions  of  souK^  men;  Itrutal  to  men  and  women 
alike;  to  dumb  brutes,  and  in  fact  to  themselves. 
And  yet  alongside  of.  this,  it  is  a  pleasure  to 
r<'cord  that  there  were  numerous  instances  of 
iioldc  self-sacrifice,  of  helpfulness,  of  unselfish- 
ness, to  the  ])oiut  of  im])eriling  their  own  lives. 
II  became  a  common  sayiug  lliat  to  know  one's 
neighl>ors,  Ihcy  must  bo  seen  on  llie  Plains. 

EXTENT  OF  EMIGRATION. 

Tlic  ;ii-niy  <»r  loose  slock  llial  acconii>anie(l  Ihis 
liiiuc  e;ii-;i\;iM.  a  eolnnin,   We  ina\'  jilniosi    s;iy,  of 


281257 


GRANFTE  MOXT'MKNT  AT  BAKKK  ("ITY,  OREGON. 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  39 

live  liimdred  miles  long  without  break,  added 
{•reatly  to  the  discomfort  of  all.  Of  course  it  will 
never  be  kuo^^'u  the  number  of  such  or  for  that 
matter  of  the  emigrants  themselves,  but  their 
numbers  were  legion  compared  to  those  that  la- 
bored under  tlie  joke.  A  conservative  estimate 
would  be  not  less  than  six  animals  to  the  wagon, 
and  surely  there  were  three  loose  animals  to 
where  there  was  on(;  laboring,  liy  this  it  would 
appear  that,  while  there  were  sixteen  hundred 
wagons  passed  while  we  tarried  four  days,  there 
were  nearly  ten  thousand  beasts  of  burden  passed 
under  review,  and  near  thirty  thousan<l  lo6s(; 
stock.  As  i<>  the  number  of  persons,  certainly 
lliere  ANcrc  li\-e  to  the  Avagon,  maybe  more,  but 
calling  it  live,  eight  thousand  people,  men, 
women,  and  children,  ])assed  on,  many  to  their 
graves  not  afar  off. 

We  know  l»y  liie  inscribed  dates  found  on  In- 
dependence liock  and  elsewhere  that  there  were 
wagons  full  three  hundred  mih'S  ahead  of  us,  and 
Ibat  tbc  llii'ong  had  continned  to  ]>ass  the  river 
more  Ibiiii  ;i  iiioiilli  nflcr  w<'  luul  crossed,  so  that 
it  does  nol  i'e(|uirc  a  slrelch  of  <Iie  iiiiagiiial  ion 
1o  say  Ihe  coliiiini  wjis  five  Imiidred  iiiib'S  long, 
and,  lii<c  Slu'iiiiiiirs  iiiai-<Ii  llii-ougli  (icorgia,  fifty 
Iboiisiind  si  i-oiig. 


40  THE    OX   TEAM    OR 

THE  CASUALTIES. 

Of  the  casualtie.s  iu  that  mighty  army  I 
scarcely  dare  i^iiess.  It  is  certain  that  history 
does  not  j^ive  a  record  of  so  i^reat  a  number  mi- 
grating so  long  a  distance  as  that  of  the  Pioneers 
of  the  Phiins,  wh(H-e,  as  we  have  seen,  the  dead 
lay  in  rows  of  fifties  and  groups  of  seventies. 
Shall  A\e  say  ten  per  cent  fell  by  the  wayside? 
Many  will  exclaim  that  estimate  is  too  low.  Ten 
per  cent  would  give  us  five  thousand  sacrifices 
of  lives  laid  down  even  in  one  year  to  the 
peopling  of  the  Pacific  Coast  states.  The  roll 
call  was  never  nmde,  and  we  know  not  how  man;/ 
there  were.  The  list  of  mortalities  is  unknown, 
and  so  we  are  lost  iu  conjecture,  and  now  we 
know  only  that  the  unknown  and  unmarked 
graves  have  gone  into  oblivion. 


THE   OLD   OUEGON    TRAUi  41 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  High  Court. 
LAW  OF  SELF-PRESERVATION. 

WHEN  we  stepped  foot  upou  the  right  bank 
of  the  Missouri  river  we  were  outside  the 
pale  of  civil  law.  We  were  Avithin  the  Indian 
country  where  no  organized  civil  government  ex- 
isted. Home  people  and  some  writers  have  as- 
sumed that  each  man  was  a  ^'law  unto  himself" 
and  free  to  do  his  own  will,  dependent,  of  course, 
upou  his  physical  ability  to  enforce  it. 

Nothing  could  be  further  from  the  facts  than 
tliis  assumption,  as  evil  doers  soon  found  out  to 
Iheir  discomtiture.  No  general  organization  for 
law  and  order  was  effected,  but  the  American  in- 
stinct for  fair  play  and  for  a  hearing  prevailed, 
so  that  while  there  was  not  mol)  law,  the  law  of 
self-preservation  asserted  itself,  au<l  the  man- 
dates of  llic  Icvcl-licadcd  old  men  prevailed,  "a 
higli  court  from  wiiich  there  is  no  appeal,"  but 
"a  high  court  in  the  most  exalted  sense;  a  senate 
comjtosed  of  the  alilest  and  most  resjK'cted  fatli- 
ci's  <if  I  lie  ciiiii:!';!!  ion,  (•\ci-<isiiig  botli  Icgislat  iv<' 


42  THE   OX    TEAM   OR 

and  judicial  power;  and  its  laws  aud  decisions 
proved  e(iiial  aud  worthy  of  the  hii>h  trust  reposed 
in  it."  So  tersely  described  by  Applegate  as  to 
conditions  when  the  first  great  train  moved  out 
on  the  Plains  in  1848,  that  1  quote  his  words  as 
describing  conditions  in  1852.  There  was  this 
difference,  however,  in  the  emigration  of  1843 — 
all,  by  an  agreement,  belonged  to  one  or  the  other 
of  the  two  companies,  the  '^cow  column"  or  the 
''light  brigade,-'  while  with  the  emigrants  of  1852 
it  is  safe  to  say  that  more  than  half  did  not  be- 
long to  large  companies,  or  one  might  say  any 
organized  company  at  all.  l>ut  this  nuide  no 
dift'erence,  for  Avlien  an  occasion  called  for  action 
a  ''high  court"  was  convened,  and  woe  betide  the 
man  that  would  undertake  to  defy  its  mandates 
after  its  deliberations  were  made  public. 

CAPITAL  PUNISHMENT. 

One  incident,  well  up  on  the  Sweetwater,  will 
illustrate  the  spirit  and  determination  of  the 
sturdy  old  men  (elderly  I  should  say,  as  no 
young  men  were  allowed  to  sit  in  these  councils) 
of  the  Plains,  while  laboring  under  stress  of 
grave  personal  cares  and  with  many  personal  be- 
reavements.   A  murder  had  been  committed,  and 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TKAIL  43 

it  \\as  clear  the  motive  was  robbery.  Tlie  sus- 
pect liad  a  large  family,  aud  was  travelinj^-  aloug 
with  the  jiioviiii;'  column.  Men  bad  volunteered 
to  search  for  the  missing  man  and  finall}^  found 
the  proof  i)ointin<>;  to  the  guilty  man.  A  council 
of  twelve  men  was  called  and  deliberated  until 
the  second  da}',  meanwhile  holding  the  murderer 
safel}'  within  their  grip.  What  were  they  to  do? 
Here  was  a  wife  and  four  little  children  depend- 
ent upon  this  man  for  their  lives;  w'hat  would 
become  of  this  man's  family  if  justice  was  meted 
out  to  hiuj?  Soon  there  came  an  undercurrent 
of  what  ]iiight  be  termed  public  o])ini()n — that  it 
was  ])r()bably  better  to  forego  punishment  than 
to  endanger  the  lives  of  the  family;  but  the  coun- 
cil would  not  be  swerved  from  their  resolution, 
and  at  sundown  of  the  third  day  the  criminal 
was  hung  in  the  ])resence  of  the  Avliole  cam]),  in- 
cliKliug  the  family,  but  not  unfil  aMii)le  ])rovi- 
sions  had  been  made  to  insure  the  safety  of  the 
family  by  providing  a  driver  to  finish  the  jour- 
ney. I  came  so  near  seeing  this  that  I  did  see 
the  ends  of  Hie  wagon  (oiigues  in  llie  air  and  Ibe 
rope  dangling  in  I  lie  air,  but  T  have  forged  (<'n 
the  names  of  the  parlies,  and  even  if  T  had  no(, 
wonbl   be  loalli  (o  make  jbem  jmbjic. 


44  THE    OX    TEAM   OR 

From  uecessity,  murder  was  pimishable  with 
death;  but  stealiug,  b}'  a  tacit  uuderstaudiuji,, 
with  whipping,  which,  when  intlictcd  by  one  of 
those  long  ox  hishes  in  the  hands  of  an  expert, 
Avas  a  terrible  castigation,  as  the  sting  of  the  lash 
would  bring  the  blood  from  the  victim's  back  at 
every  stroke.  Minor  offenses  or  differences  gen- 
erally took  the  form  of  an  arbitration,  the  deci- 
sion of  which  each  party  would  abide  as  if  ema- 
nating from  a  court  of  law. 

Lawlessness  was  not  common  on  the  Plains, 
no  more  so  than  in  the  communities  from  which 
the  great  body  of  the  emigrants  had  been  drawn, 
and  in  fact  we  may  safely  say  not  so  much,  as 
punishment  was  swift  and  certain,  and  that  fact 
had  its  deferent  effect.  l>ut  tlie  great  body  of 
the  emigrants  were  a  law-abiding  set  from  law- 
abiding  communities. 


THE   OLD   OKEGUxN    TUAIL  45 

CHAPTER  Vl. 

The  Ox. 

THE  OX  PASSING. 

THE  ox  is  pas.siug;  iu  fact  we  may  almost  say 
has.  i)assed.  Like  the  old-time  spinning- 
wheel  and  the  hand  loom,  that,  are  only  to  be 
seen  as  mementos  of  the  past ;  or  the  quaint  old 
cobbler's  hcncli  with  its  hand-made  lasts  and 
shoe  pegs;  or  the  heavy  iron  bubbling  mush  pot 
on  the  crane  in  the  chimney  corner;  like  the  fast 
vanishing  of  the  old-time  men  and  women  of 
fifty  years  or  more  ago — all  are  passing,  to  be 
laid  asi<l('  for  tlic  new  ways  and  the  new  actors 
on  the  scenes  of  life.  While  these  ways  and  thes(^ 
scenes  ami  these  actors  have  had  their  day,  y(;t 
llicir  ('.\])('riences  and  the  lessons  taught  are  not 
lost  to  llic  world  although  at  times  almost 
foi'gotten. 

The  (lirrci'ciirc  Ik'Iwccm  a  riNJli/cd  niid  an  uii- 
tiiloii-d  people  lies  in  Hie  a]>pl  ic;il  ion  of  lliese 
ex]M*i*ien.-es ;  wliije  tjie  one  bnilds  n|)oii  Hie  foun- 
dations of  the  |>;is(,  wliicli  engenders  hope  and 
anibilioii   foj-  Hie  IHIni-e,  (lie  odiei-  has  no  past 


46  THE   ox   TEAM    OR 

uor  aspiratious  for  the  future.  As  revci'cuce  for 
tlie  past  dies  out  iu  the  breasts  of  a  geueration, 
so  likewise  patriotism  waues.  In  the  measure 
that  the  love  of  the  history  of  the  past  dies,  so 
likewise  do  the  higher  aspirations  for  the  future. 
To  keep  the  flame  of  patriotism  alive  we  have 
onl}'  to  keep  tlie  memory  of  the  past  vividly  in 
mind. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  PEACE. 

Bearing  these  thoughts  in  mind,  this  expedi- 
tion to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  old  Oregon 
Trail  was  undertaken.  And  there  was  this  fur- 
ther thought,  that  here  was  this  class  of  heroic 
men  and  Avomen  who  fought  a  veritable  battle, — 
a  battle  of  peace  to  be  sure,  yet  as  brave  a  battle 
as  any  by  those  that  faced  the  cannon's  mouth; 
a  battle  that  was  fraught  with  as  momentous 
results  as  any  of  the  great  battles  of  grim  war; 
a  battle  that  wrested  half  a  continent  from  the 
native  race  and  from  a  mighty  nation  contend- 
ing for  mastery  in  the  unknown  regions  of  the 
AVest,  whose  fame  was  scantily  acknowledged  and 
whose  name  was  already  almost  forgotten,  and 
whose  track,  the  battle-ground  of  peace,  was  on 
the  verge  of  impending  oblivion.     Shall  this  be- 


THE    OLD   ()UI-:G0X    TUAIL  47 

come  au  accouiplislied  fact?  The  answer  to  this 
is  this  expedition,  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of 
the  ohl  Oregon  Trail,  and  to  honor  the  intrepid 
l)ioneers  wlio  made  it  and  saved  tliis  great  region, 
the  old  Oregon  country,  for  Anu^ricau  rule. 

The  ox  team  did  it.  Had  it  not  been  for  the 
])atient  ox  with  the  wagon  train,  the  preponder- 
ance of  an  American  settlement  in  tlu^  old  Oregon 
country  over  that  of  the  ]>ritisli  could  not  have 
so  certainly  prevailed;  and  in  fact  uncertainty 
liovered  over  the  land  with  results  hanging  in 
Ihe  balance  until  that  first  wagon  train  reached 
the  reiiion  of  contendinir  forces. 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  49 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Ox  Team  Brigade  and  the  Cow 
Column. 

EMIGRATION  OF  1843 

SIXTY-THREE  years  ago  (1843)  a  company 
uunibcrinj^'  iicai-lv  one  thonsaud  strong,  of 
men,  women,  and  children,  with  over  five  thou- 
sand cattle,  guided  by  such  intrepid  men  as  Peter 
Burnett  (afterwards  first  governor  of  Califor- 
nia), Jesse  Applegate,  always  a  first  citizen  in 
the  community  wliere  he  had  cast  his  lot,  and 
James  ^V.  Nesbitt,  afterwards  one  of  the  first 
senators  from  tlie  state  of  Oregon,  made  their 
way  with  ox  and  cow  teams  toilsomely  up  the 
Platte  valley,  up  the  Sweetwater,  through  the 
South  Pass  of  the  Eocky  mountains,  and  across 
rivcis  to  I'ort  JTnll  on  the  u]>per  waters  of  Snake 
river.  Tliis  far  there  had  been  a  few  traders- 
wagons  and  the  track  had  been  partially  broken 
for  this  thousand  mile  stretch.  Not  so  for  the 
remainder  of  their  journey  of  near  eight  hundred 
miles.  Not  a  wheel  had  been  t  iii'iied  west  of  this 
post    (then    llie   abiding   ]dace    for   the    "walrh- 


50  THE    OX    TEAINI    OR 

dogs''  of  the  IJritish,  the  llndsou  Bay  Company, 
who  cast  a  coyc4oiis  eye  upon  the  great  Oregon 
country),  except  the  Whitman  cart,  packed  a 
part  of  the  way,  but  linally  stalled  at  Fort  Boise, 
a  few  hundred  miles  to  the  A\'est. 

This  great  company,  encouraged  and  guided 
l»y  >\'liitman,^  took  their  lives  in  their  liands  wlien 
they  cut  loose  from  Fort  Hall  and  headed  tlieir 
teams  westwar<l  over  an  almost  unexplored  re- 
gion with  only  Indians'  or  traders'  horseback 
trails  Itefore  them  and  hundreds  of  miles  <»f 
mountainous  country  to  traverse. 

HORACE  GREELEY'S  OPINION. 

"For  what,''  wrote  Horace  Greeley  in  his 
paper,  the  New  York  Tribune,  July  22,  1843,  "do 
tliey  brave  the  desert,  the  wilderness,  the  savages 
the   snowy  preci])ic(^s  of   tlie  Bocky   mounlains. 


'Mrs.  N.  M.  Bogart  of  Renton,  Washington,  yet  living, 
who  crossed  the  Plains  in  1843.  with  the  cow  column  of 
the  emigration  of  that  year,  recently  told  the  author  of  a 
beautiful  incident  illustrating  the  character  of  the  intrepid 
missionary,  Marcus  Whitman,  on  that  memorable  trip. 
"When  we  came  to  the  crossing  of  Platte  river,  some  one 
had  to  go  ahead  cf  the  teams  to  avoid  deep  holes,"  she 
related.  "I  distinctly  remember  seeing  Whitman  take  the 
front  yoke  of  cattle  to  the  front  wagon  and  wade  along- 
side of  them.  He  was  stripped  of  all  clothing  except  his 
underwear  and  prepared  to  swim,  if  need  be,  but  we  all 
crossed  in  safety  under  his  guiding  hand.  He  was  a  great, 
good  man." 


TilE    ()M>   OKKGON    TKAIL  51 

the  weary  summer  march,  the  storm-drenched 
bivouac  and  the  guawings  of  famine?  This  emi- 
gration of  more  than  a  thousand  persons  in  one 
body  to  Oregon  wears  an  asjoect  of  insanity." 

The  answer  came  back  in  due  time,  "for  what" 
they   braved   tlie   (hingers   of   a   trip   across   tlie 
Phiins  to  an  almost  unknown  hind,  in  petitions 
praying  for  lielp  to  hohl  tlie  country  they  had, 
as  we  might  say,  seized ;  for  recognition  as  Amer- 
ican citizens  to  be  taken  under  the  fostering  care 
of  the  liome  government  that  their  effort  might 
not  fail.     And  yet  tiv<'  long  years  passed  and  no 
relief  came.     An  army  had  been  asseniMed,  an 
Indian  war  fought,  when,  at  the  dying  mouu'nt 
of  Congress,  under  the  stress  of  public  oi)ini()n, 
aroused  by  the  atrocious  massacre  of  Whituuui, 
]>ai*ty  ]»assi(»n  on  the  slavery  (piestion  was  smoth- 
ered,   the   long-looked    for    i-elief   came,    au<l    the 
Oregon    bill    was  passed.      They   had    "licid    llic 
Fort"  till  victory  perched  ujmu  llieii-  bMuuer,  au<l 
the  foundation  was  In  id  for  llii-ee  gi-eat  free  slates 
to  enter  the  I'liiou. 

Xo  iiioi-c  hci-oic  <\('('t\  is  of  record  (Imii  Ibis,  lo 
s|);ni  tlic  rciiKiindci-  of  ;i  coidiucid  by  llic  w.-igon 
ti-ack.  l';iiliii-('  iiicjiiil  iidcnsc  siirfci-iug  lo  .-dl 
anddcalli  lo  iniiny.     There  was  no  rel real.     Tliev 


52  THE    OX    TEAM   OR 

had,  iu  a  figurative  sense,  "burned  their  bridges 
behind  them."    Go  on  they  must,  or  perish, 

CAUSE  THAT  SAVED  OREGON  FROM  BRITISH 
RULE. 

A>'heu  til  is  train  safely  arrived,  the  j)reponder- 
ance  of  the  American  settlers  was  so  great  that 
there  was  no  more  question  as  to  who  should 
temporarily  possess  the  Oregon  country.  An 
American  provisional  goNcrnmcnt  was  iiumedi- 
ately  organized,  the  liritish  rule  was  challenged, 
and  Oregon  was  "saved,"  and  gave  three  great 
states  to  the  Union,^  and  a  large  part  of  two 
more. 

Other  ox  team  brigades  came.  l*^)ur(('('ii  liiiu- 
dred  people  in  1844  followed  the  track  made  in 
1843,  and  three  thousand  in  1845,  and  on  August 
15  of  that  3'ear  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  ac- 
cepted the  protection  of  the  provisional  govern- 
ment and  paid  taxes  to  its  officers. 

Shall  we  let  the  memory  of  such  men  and 
women  smolder  in  our  minds  and  sink  into  ob- 
livion? Shall  we  refuse  to  recognize  their  great 
courageous  acts  and   fail   in  do  honor  to  their 


'  The  first  attempt  to  form  an  American  provi- 
sional government  only  prevailed  by  one  majority  and 
finally  fell  because  of  the  lack  of  American  preponderance. 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  53 

memory?  We  erect  monuments  to  commemorate 
the  achievements  of  grim  war  and  to  mark  the 
bloody  battlefields ;  then  why  shall  we  not  honor 
those  who  went  out  to  the  battle  of  the  Plains? 
— a  battle  of  peace,  to  be  sure,  j^et  a  battle  that 
called  for  as  heroic  deeds  and  for  as  great  sacri- 
fice as  any  of  war  and  fraught  with  as  momentous 
i-esults  as  the  most  sanguinary  battles  of  history. 
The  people  that  held  Oregon  with  such  firm  grip 
till  the  sacrifice  came  that  ended  all  contention 
deserve  a  tender  place  in  the  hearts  of  the  citizens 
of  this  great  commonwealth. 

A  glimpse  into  the  life  of  the  struggling  mass 
of  the  first  wagon  train  is  both  interesting  and 
useful,  interesting  in  the  study  of  social  life  of 
the  past,  and  useful  from  an  historical  point  of 
view. 

JESSE  APPLEGATE'S  EPIC. 

Jesse  Applegate,  leader  of  the  "cow  column," 
after  the  division  into  two  companies,  many 
years  afterwards  wrote  of  the  trip,  and  his  ac- 
count has  been  published  and  republished  and 
may  be  found  in  full  in  the  Oregon  Historical 
Quarterly.  His  writing  is  accepted  as  classic, 
and  his  facts,  from  first  hands,  as  true  to  the 
letter. 


54  THE   ox   TEAM    Oil 

Portraying  the  sceues  with  the  "cow  columu" 
for  one  day  he  wrote: 

"It  is  4:00  oV-loek  a.m.;  tlie  sentinels  on  duty 
have  discharged  their  ritles — the  signal  that  the 
hours  of  sleep  are  over — and  every  wagon  and 
tent  is  pouring  forth  its  night  tenants,  and  slow 
kindling  smokes  begin  lazily  to  rise  and  float 
away  in  the  morning  air.  Sixty  men  start  from 
the  corral,  spreading  as  they  make  through  the 
vast  herd  of  cattle  and  horses  that  make  a  semi- 
circle around  the  encampment,  the  most  distant 
perhaps  two  miles  away. 

"Tlie  herders  pass  the  extreme  verge  and  care- 
fully examine  for  trails  beyond  to  see  that  none 
of  the  animals  have  strayed  or  l)een  stolen  dur- 
ing the  night.  This  morning  no  trails  lead  be- 
yond the  outside  animals  in  sight,  and  by  five 
o'clock  the  herders  begin  to  contract  the  great 
moving  circle,  and  the  well-trained  animals  move 
slowly  towards  camp,  clipping  here  and  tliere  a 
thistle  or  a  tempting  l»unch  of  grass  on  the  way. 
Til  about  an  liour  five  thousand  animals  are  close 
up  to  the  encampment,  and  the  teamsters  are 
Imsy  selecting  their  teams  and  driving  them  in- 
side the  corral  to  be  yoked.  The  corral' is  a  circle 
one  hundred  yards  deej)  formed  with  wagons  con- 


TliE    OLD    OUKGUN    TIJAIL  55 

uectod  strongly  with  each  other;  the  wagou  iu 
the  rear  being  connected  with  the  wagon  in  front 
by  its  tongue  and  ox  chains.  It  is  a  strong  bar- 
rier that  the  most  vicious  ox  can  not  break,  and 
iu  case  of  attack  from  the  Sioux  would  be  no 
contemptible  intrenchment. 

"Froui  ():00  to  7:00  o'clock  is  the  busy  time; 
breakfast  is  to  be  eaten,  the  tents  struck,  the 
wagons  loaded  and  the  teams  yoked  and  brought 
u])  in  readiness  to  be  attached  to  their  respective 
wagous.  All  know  when,  at  7:00  o'clock,  the 
signal  to  march  sounds,  that  those  not  ready  to 
take  their  i)laces  in  the  line  of  nmrch  uiust  fall 
into  the  dusty  rear  for  th(>  day.  There  are  sixty 
wagons.  They  have  been  divided  into  fifteen  di- 
xisioiis  or  platoons  of  four  wagons  each,  and 
cacli  j)latoon  is  eutith'd  to  lead  in  its  tnru.  The 
h'adiiig  i)la<oon  today  will  be  the  rear  one  to- 
nion-ow.  ;iii<i  will  bring  np  liic  rear,  nnless  sonn; 
icamstci',  througli  indolence  or  negligence,  has 
b>st  bis  place  in  the  line,  and  is  comleinne<l  to 
llinl  nnc<.mfoi-tablc  i»(»sl.  I(  is  within  ten  niin- 
iilcs  (»r  7:0(1;  the  coi-i-al.  bnl  now  a  sli'onu'  l»;ir- 
i-icadf,  is  cNcrywhei'c  lii-okcii,  (he  teams  being 
allached  lo  ihe  wagons,  'j'he  women  an<l  chil- 
<li-«-n  ha\('  taken  their  |. laces  in  them.     The  |)il(»i 


56  THE    OX   TEAM   OR 

(a  borderer  who  lias  passed  his  life  on  the  verge 
of  civilization,  and  has  been  chosen  to  his  post 
of  leader  from  his  knowledge  of  the  savage  and 
his  experience  in  travel  through  roadless  wastes) 
stands  ready,  in  the  midst  of  his  pioneers  and 
aids,  to  mount  and  lead  the  way.  Ten  or  fifteen 
young  men,  not  today  on  duty,  form  another 
cluster.  They  are  ready  to  start  on  a  buffalo 
hunt,  are  well  mounted  and  well  armed,  as  they 
need  to  be,  for  the  unfriendly  Sioux  has  driven 
the  buffalo  out  of  the  Platte,  and  the  hunters 
must  ride  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  to  find  them. 
The  cow  drivers  are  hastening,  as  they  get  ready, 
to  the  rear  of  their  charge,  to  collect  and  prepare 
them  for  the  day's  march. 

"It  is  on  the  stroke  of  7:00;  the  rush  to  and 
fro,  the  cracking  of  whips,  the  loud  command 
to  oxen,  and  what  seemed  to  be  the  inextricable 
confusion  of  the  last  ten  minutes  has  ceased. 
Fortunately  every  one  has  been  found  and  every 
teamster  is  at  his  post.  The  clear  notes  of  a 
trumpet  sound  in  the  front;  the  pilot  and  his 
guards  mount  their  horses ;  the  leading  divisions 
of  the  wagons  move  out  of  the  encampment,  and 
take  up  the  line  of  march ;  the  rest  fall  into  their 
places  with  the  precision  of  clock-work,  until  the 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TKAIL  5< 

spot  SO  lately  full  of  life  sinks  back  into  that 
solitude  that  seems  to  i-eigu  over  the  broad  plain 
and  rushiiig  river  as  the  caravan  draAVS  its  lazy 
length  toA\  ards  the  distant  El  Dorado. 

"The  pilot,  by  measuring  the  ground  and  tim- 
ing the  speed  of  the  horses,  has  determined  the 
rate  of  each,  so  as  to  enable  him  to  select  the 
nooning  place  as  nearly  as  the  requisite  grass 
and  water  can  be  had  at  the  end  of  five  hours' 
travel  of  the  wagons.  Today,  the  ground  being 
favoi-able,  little  time  has  been  lost  in  preparing 
the  road,  so  that  he  and  his  pioneers  are  at  the 
nooning  place  an  hour  in  advance  of  the  wagons, 
^^■hich  time  is  spent  in  preparing  convenient 
watering  places  for  the  animals,  and  digging  lit- 
tle wells  near  llie  bank  of  the  Platte.  As  the 
<eams  are  not  unyoked,  but  simply  turned  loose 
from  the  wagons,  a  corral  is  not  formed  at  noon, 
but  the  wagons  are  drawn  up  in  columns,  four 
abreast,  the  leading  Avagon  of  each  platoon  on 
the  left,  the  ])latoons  IxMug  formed  with  that  in 
view.  This  bi-iugs  friends  together  at  noon  as 
well  ns  ;i(   night. 

''Today  an  extra  session  of  the  council  is  being 
lieid,  to  settle  a  dispute  that  does  not  admit  of 
(leljiy,  bel\ve<'n  a   ]»i-o[)rietor  and  a  young   man 


58  THE    UX   TEAM   Uil 

who  has  imdertakcii  to  do  a  man's  scrvitn;  ou  thu 
journey  for  bed  and  board.  ^lany  such  cases 
exist,  and  much  interest  is  taken  in  the  manner 
in  which  this  hi<;h  court,  from  which  there  is  no 
appeal,  will  define  the  rights  of  each  party  in 
such  engagements.  The  council  was  a  high  court 
in  the  most  exalted  sense.  It  was  a  senate  com- 
posed of  the  ablest  and  most  respected  fathers 
of  the  emigration.  It  exercised  both  legislative 
and  judicial  powers,  and  its  laws  and  decisi<ms 
proved  equal,  and  worthy  of  the  high  trust  re- 
posed in  it.     .     .     . 

"It  is  now  one  o'clock;  the  bugle  has  sounded 
and  the  caravan  has  resumed  its  westward  jour- 
ney. It  is  in  the  same  order,  but  the  evening  is 
far  less  aninmted  than  the  morning  march.  A 
dro^\siness  has  fallen  apparently  on  num  and 
beast;  teamsters  drop  asleep  on  their  perches, 
and  the  words  of  command  are  now  addressed  to 
the  slowly  creeping  oxen  in  the  soft  tenor  of 
Avomen  or  the  piping  treble  of  children,  while  the 
snores  of  the  teamsters  make  a  droning  accom- 
paniment. 

"The  sun  is  now  getting  low  in  the  west,  and 
at  length  the  painstaking  pilot  is  standing  ready 
to  conduct  the  train  in  the  circle  which  he  has 


THE   OLD   OIUXJON    TRAIL  59 

previousl}-  measured  and  marked  out,  which  is 
to  form  the  invariable  fortiticatiou  for  the  uight. 
The  leading  Avagons  follow  him  so  nearly  around 
the  circle  that  but  a  wagon  length  separates 
them.  Each  wagon  follows  in  its  track,  the  rear 
closing  on  the  front,  until  its  tongue  and  ox 
chains  will  perfectly  reach  from  one  to  the  other; 
and  so  accurate  [is]  the  measure  and  perfect  the 
pi-aclice  that  the  hindmost  wagon  of  the  train 
always  precisely  closes  the  gateway.  As  each 
wagon  is  brought  into  position  it  is  dropped 
from  tlie  team  (the  teams  being  inside  the  cir- 
cle), tin;  team  is  unyoked,  and  tlie  yoke  and 
chains  are  used  to  connect  the  wagon  strongly 
with  that  in  its  front.  Within  ten  minutes  from 
tlie  lime  the  leading  wagon  halted,  the  barricade 
is  foniied,  the  teams  unyoked  and  driven  out  to 
pasture.  Every  one  is  I)usy  ])reparing  tires 
.  .  .  to  cook  the  evening  meal,  ])itching  tents 
and  (tdierwise  ])repai'ing  for  tlie  night.  .  .  . 
The  walclics  Ix-gin  al  S:()0  (»'cb>ck  \'.M.  and  end 
;il    I  :(M)  o'clock  A.M." 


00  THE    OX    TEA  IS  r   OK 

CIIArTER  VIII. 
Life  on  the  Plains. 
OPENING  THE  ROAD, 


T 


HE  reader  will  note,  "To-day,  the  groimd 
being  favorable,  little  time  has  been  lost 
in  preparing  the  road,"  showing  the  arduous  task 
l)efore  (lieiu  in  road  making.  The  search  for  the 
best  route  to  avoid  steep  pitches  or  rocky  points 
or  liigh  sage  brush  required  constant  vigilance 
on  the  part  of  the  "pioneers"  whose  duty,  with 
the  pilot,  was  to  spy  out  and  prepare  the  way 
for  the  caravjin  to  foHow.  At  the  noon  hour,  I 
note,  "'As  tlie  teams  are  not  unyoked,  but  simply 
turned  loose  from  the  wagon,  a  corral  is  not 
formed,"  a  cruel  practice  I  frequently  saw  in 
1852.  It  is  with  pride  I  can  write  that  neither 
lUick  and  Dandy  in  1852,  nor  T^^  ist  and  Dave  in 
1900,  ever  stood  with  the  yoke  on  while  I 
lunched,  and  that  the  former  w^re  in  better  con- 
dition when  the  trip  was  ended  than  when  they 
started,  even  though  they  were  at  the  start  un- 
broken steers.  I'wist  and  Dav(^  have  come 
through  the  ordeal  in  as  good  condition  as  at  tlie 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TKAIL  Gl 

start,  until  Twist  was  poisoned  and  died,  al- 
though they  alone  have  brought  the  one  wagon 
(weighing  1,400  pounds)  and  its  load  all  the 
way,  a  distance  of  nearly  1,700  miles. 

A  word  as  to  the  rules  of  the  expedition  just 
completed.  Loug  before  the  summer  solstice,  the 
alarm  clock  was  set  at  4:00,  breakfast  over  by 
5 :00,  and  the  start  usually  made  by  6 :00  o'clock. 
^y^i  always  took  a  long  nooning  hour,  and  if 
warm,  several  hours,  and  then  traveled  late,  mak- 
ing from  fifteen  to  twenty-five  miles  a  day,  aver- 
aging seventeen  and  a  half  miles  for  traveling 
(lays.    Slow,  you  will  say.    Yes;  slow  but  sure. 

MODE  OF  TRAVEL  IN  1852. 

And  now  as  t(»  oui-  mode  of  travel  in  1852.  I 
did  not  enter  an  organized  company,  neither 
could  I  travel  alone.  Four  wagons,  with  nine 
men,  by  a  tacit  agreement,  traveled  together  for 
a  thousand  miles,  and  separated  only  when  our 
roads  parted,  tlu;  one  to  California  and  the  other 
to  Oregon.  And  ^'et  we  were  all  the  while  in  one 
great  train,  never  out  of  the  sight  or  liearing  of 
olliers.  In  fact,  at  times  the  road  would  be  so 
full  of  wagons  that  all  could  not  travel  in  one 
li-ack,  and  this  fact  accounts  for  llic  (loiilile  i-oad- 


02  THE    OX    TEAM    OR 

beds  seen  in  so  man}'  places  on  the  trail.  One  of 
the  party  alwaj-s  went  ahead  to  look  ont  for 
water,  grass,  and  fnel,  three  requisites  for  a  camp- 
ing place.  The  grass  along  the  beaten  track  was 
always  eaten  otT  close  by  the  loose  stock,  of  which 
there  A\(n'e  great  numbers,  and  so  we  had  fre- 
quently to  take  the  cattle  long  distances.  Then 
came  the  most  tr^'ing  part  of  the  whole  trip — the 
all-night  watch,  which  resulted  in  our  making 
the  cattle  our  bedfellows,  back  to  back  for 
warmth ;  for  signal  as  well,  to  get  up  if  the  ox 
did.  It  was  not  long  though  till  we  were  used 
to  it,  and  slept  (piite  a  bit  except  when  a  storm 
struck  us;  well,  then  it  was,  to  say  the  least,  not 
a  pleasure  outing.  l>ut  weren't  Ave  glad  when 
tlie  morning  came,  and  percliance  the  smoke  of 
the  cami)fire  miglit  be  in  sight,  and  maybe,  as  we 
approaclied,  we  could  catch  the  aroma  of  the 
coffee.  And  then  such  tender  greetings  and  such 
thoughtful  care  that  would  have  touched  a  heart 
of  ston(^,  and  to  us  seemed  like  a  paradise.  AVe 
were  supremcdy  hai)py. 

ABANDONED  PROPERTY. 

People  too  often  brought  their  own  ills  upon 
themselves  by  their  indiscreet  action,  esx^ecially 


THE    OI-I)    OUHGOX    TUAIL  08 

ill  the  lo.s.s  of  their  teams,  llie  trip  had  not  pro- 
L^ressed  far  till  there  eaine  a  universal  outcry 
against  the  heavy  loads  and  unnecessary  articles, 
and  soon  we  begun  to  see  abandoned  property. 
First  it  might  be  a  table  or  a  cupboard  or  per- 
chance a  bedstead  or  a  heavy  cast-iron  cook- 
stove.  Then  began  to  be  seen  bedding  by  the 
wayside,  feather  beds,  blankets,  qtiilts,  pillows, 
everytliing  of  the  kind  that  mortal  man  might 
want.  Not  so  very  long  till  here  and  there  an 
al»anch>ned  wagon  was  to  be  seen,  provisions, 
stacks  of  liour,  and  bacon  being  the  most  abun- 
dant, all  left  as  common  jn-operty.  Help  your- 
self if  you  will,  no  one  Avill  interfere,  and  in  fact 
in  some  places  a  sign  was  posted  inviting  all  to 
lake  what  they  wanted.  Hundreds  of  wagons 
were  left  and  hundreds  of  tons  of  goods.  Teople 
seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  to  give  away  their 
l»iop<*rty,  there  being  no  chance  to  sell,  and  they 
<lislikc(i  to  destroy.  Long  afier  i  he  mania  foi' 
gelling  ri<l  of  goods  and  lightening  the  load  the 
al;aiidoniiient  of  wagons  conlimied,  as  th(i  teams 
becainf  weakei'  (generally  I'l-uni  abuse  or  lack  of 
cai'e),  and  the  ravages  of  cholci-a  si  ruck  ns.  II 
was  Iheii  that  many  lost  their  heads  and  ruined 
I  heir  teams  by  furious  di'i\i!ig,  by  lack  of  care, 
5 


04  THE   OX    TEAM    OR 

and  by  abuse.  There  came  a  veritable  stampede, 
a  strife  for  possession  of  the  road,  to  see  who 
should  get  ahead.  Whole  trains  with  bad  blood 
would  strive  for  mastery  of  the  road,  one  at- 
temi)ting  to  pass  the  other,  frequently  with 
drivers  on  each  side  the  team  to  urge  the  poor, 
suffering  dumb  brutes  forward. 

THE  CHOLERA. 

"What  shall  \\e  do?"  passed  from  one  to  an- 
other in  our  little  family  council. 

"NoAv,  fellers,"  said  McAuley,  "do  n't  lose  your 
heads,  but  do  just  as  30U  have  been  doing;  you 
gals,  just  make  your  bread  as  light  as  ever,  and 
we'll  boil  the  Avater  and  take  river  water  the 
same  as  ever,  even  if  it  is  almost  thick  as  mud." 

We  had  all  along  refused  to  "dig  little  wells 
near  the  bank  of  the  Platte,"  as  noted  by  Apple- 
gate  in  his  quoted  article,  having  soon  learned 
that  the  water  obtained  was  strongly  charged 
with  alkali,  while  the  river  water  was  compara- 
tively pure  other  than  the  fine  impalpable  sand, 
so  fine,  one  might  almost  say,  as  to  be  held  in 
solution. 

"Keep  cool,"  he  continued ;  "maybe  we  '11  have 
to  lay  down,  and  maybe  not.     Anyway,  it 's  no 


THE   OLD   OUEGON    TRAIL  65 

use  a  frettin'.  What 's  to  be  will  be,  specially  if 
we  but  help  things  along." 

This  homely  wise  counsel  fell  upon  willing- 
ears,  as  most  all  were  already  of  the  same  mind, 
and  we  did,  "just  as  we  had  been  doing,"  and 
escaped  unharmed. 

1  look  [)ack  on  that  party  of  nine  men  and  three 
women  (and  a  baby)  with  four  wagons  with  feel- 
ings almost  akin  to  reverence. 

Thomas  McAuley  became  by  natural  selection 
the  leader  of  the  party  although  no  agreement 
of  the  kind  was  ever  made.  He  was,  next  to  his 
maiden  sister,  the  oldest  of  the  party,  a  most 
fearless  man  and  never  "lost  his  head,"  whatever 
the  emergency  might  arise,  and  I  have  been  in 
some  pretty  tight  places  with  him.  A\'hik»  he 
was  the  oldest,  I  was  the  youngest  of  the  men 
folks  of  llie  ]>ai'<y,  and  th(;  only  married  man  of 
ili(;  lot,  and  if  1  do  have  to  say  it  myself,  the 
strongest  and  ablest  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the 
work  (pardon  me,  reader,  when  I  add  and  will- 
ing according  lo  my  strength,  for  it  is  true),  and 
so  we  got  along  well  tog<'(her  (ill  the  jjartiiig  of 
llie  way  eaiiie.  This  sjHi-il,  1  hough,  ])ervaded  the 
whole  caiiip  bolli  with  tin*  men  and  women  folks 
to  the  end.     Thomas  McAuley  still  lives,  at  Ho- 


GO  THE    ox   TEAM    OK 

bart  ]Mills,  California,  or  did  but  a  couple  of 
years  ago  when  I  last  heard  from  him,  a  respected 
citizen.  He  has  long  ago  passed  the  eighty-year 
mark,  and  has  not  "laid  doAvn"  yet. 

THE  HAPPY  FAMILY. 

Did  space  but  permit  I  would  like  to  tell  mor(^ 
in  detail  of  the  members  of  that  little  happy 
party  (family  Ave  called  ourselves),  camped  near 
the  bank  of  the  Platte  when  the  fury  of  that 
great  epidemic  burst  upon  us,  but  I  can  only 
make  brief  mention.  AVilliam  Buck,  my  partner, 
a  noble  man,  has  long  ago  "laid  down."  Always 
scrupulously  neat  and  cleanh,  always  ready  to 
cater  to  the  Avants  of  his  companions  and  as 
honest  as  the  day  is  long,  he  has  cA'er  held  a  ten- 
der place  in  my  heart.  It  Avas  Buck  that  se- 
lected our  nice  little  outfit  complete  in  CA^ery 
part,  so  that  Ave  did  not  throAV  aAvay  a  pound  of 
provisions  nor  need  to  purchase  any.  The  water 
can  Avas  in  the  wagon,  of  sufficient  capacity  to 
supply  our  Avants  for  a  day,  and  a  "sup"  for  the 
oxen  and  coavs  besides.  The  milk  can  stood  near 
by  and  always  yielded  up  its  lump  of  butter  at 
night,  churned  by  the  movement  of  the  Avagon 
from  the  surplus  morning's  milk.    The  yeast  cake 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  67 

SO  tlioiiglitfiilly  i)rovided  by  the  little  wife  ever 
brought  forth  sweet,  light  bread  baked  in  that 
tin  reflector  before  the  "chip"  (buffalo)  fire. 
That  reflector  and  those  yeast  cakes  were  a  great 
factor  conducive  to  our  health.  Small  things, 
to  be  sure,  but  great  as  to  results.  Instead  of 
saleratus  biscuit,  bacon,  and  beans  we  had  the 
light  bread  and  fruit  with  fresh  meats  and  rice 
pudding  far  out  on  the  Plains,  until  our  supply 
of  eggs  became  exhausted. 

Of  the  remainder  of  the  party,  brother  Oliver 
"laid  down"  forty-five  years  ago,  but  his  memory 
is  still  green  in  the  hearts  of  all  Avho  knew  him. 
Margaret  McAulcy  died  a  few  years  after  rcHich- 
ing  California.  Like  her  brother,  she  was  reso- 
lute and  resourceful  and  almost  like  a  mother  to 
the  younger  sister  and  the  ycmng  little  wife  and 
baby.  And  such  a  baby!  If  one  were  to  judge 
by  the  actions  of  all  uiembers  of  that  cauip,  the 
conclusion  would  be  reached  there  was  no  other 
such  on  earth.  All  seemed  rejoiced  to  know 
there  was  a  baby  in  camp; — young  (only  seven 
weeks  old  when  we  started),  but  strong  and  grew 
apace  as  the  liighci'  alliiude  was  rcachcil. 

Eli/-a.  ibc  youugci'  sislcr,  a  type  of  the  healthy, 
lijmdsoiiic   Aiiicricaii   girl,   gi-accfiil    and    iinMlcst, 


68  THE    OX   TEAM    OR 

became  the  center  of  attraction  iipou  which  a 
romance  might  be  written,  but  as  the  good  elderly 
lady  still  lives,  the  time  has  not  yet  come,  and  so 
we  must  draAV  the  veil. 

Of  the  two  Davenport  brothers,  Jacob,  the 
youngest,  took  sick  at  ^Soda  Springs,  was  con- 
fined to  the  wagon  for  more  than  eight  hundred 
miles  down  Snake  river  in  that  intolerable  dust, 
and  finally  died  soon  after  we  arrived  in 
Portland. 

John,  the  elder  brother,  always  fretful,  l)ut 
willing  to  do  his  part,  has  passed  out  of  my 
knowledge.  Both  came  of  respected  parents  on 
an  adjoining  farm  to  that  of  my  own  home  near 
Indianap(dis,  but  I  have  lost  all  trace  of  them. 

Perhaps  the  general  reader  may  not  take  even 
a  passing  interest  in  this  little  party  (family) 
here  described.  I  can  only  say  that  this  was 
typical  of  many  such  on  the  Trail  of  '52.  Tlie 
McAuleys  or  Buck  and  otliers  of  our  party  could 
be  duplicated  in  larger  or  smaller  parties  all 
along  the  line.  There  were  hundreds  of  noble 
men  trudging  up  the  Platte  at  that  time  in  an 
army  over  five  hundred  miles  long,  many  of  whom 
"laid  down,"  a  sacrifice  to  duty,  or  maybe  to  in- 
lierent  weakness  of  their  systems.     While  it  is 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  69 

true  such  au  experioute  brings  out  the  worst  fea- 
tures of  iudividual  characters,  3^et  it  is  neverthe- 
less true  the  shining  virtues  come  to  the  front 
likewise;  like  pure  gold,  is  often  found  where 
least  expected. 

HEROIC  PIONEER  WOMAN. 

Of  the  fortitude  of  the  women  one  can  not  say 
too  much.  Embarrassed  at  the  start  by  the  fol- 
lies of  fashion  (and  long  dresses  which^  were 
(juickly  discarded  and  the  bloomer  donned),  they 
soon  rose  to  the  occasion  and  cast  false  modesty 
aside.  T'ould  Ave  but  have  had  the  camera  (of 
course  not  then  in  existence)  on  one  of  those 
tyjiical  camps,  what  a  picture  there  would  be. 
Elderly  matrons  dressed  almost  as  like  the  little 
sprite  miss  of  tender  years  of  to-day.  The 
younger  women  luorc  shy  of  accepting  the  in- 
evitable, but  finally  fell  into  the  procession,  and 
we  had  a  community  of  women  wearing  bloomers 
without  invidious  comment,  or  in  fact  of  any 
comment  at  all.  Some  of  them  soon  went  bare- 
foot, partly  from  choice  and  in  other  cases  from 
necessiiy.  The  same  could  be  said  of  Uie  men,  as 
shoe  leather  began  to  grind  oiii  from  Ihe  sau<l 
and  drv  heal.     Of  all  the  faidastic  cosi  nines  ii   is 


70  THE  OX  tea:\i  or 

safe  to  say  the  like  before  was  never  seen  nor 
equaled.  The  scene  beggars  description.  Patches 
became  visible  n])on  the  clothing  of  preachers  as 
well  as  laymen ;  the  situation  brooked  no  re- 
spect of  persons.  The  grandmother's  cap  was 
soon  displaced  b}'  a  handkerchief  or  perhaps  a 
bit  of  cloth.  Grandfather's  high  crowned  hat  dis- 
appeared as  if  by  magic.  Hatless  and  bootless 
men  became  a  common  sight.  IJonnctlcss  ^^•<>m('n 
were  to  be  seen  on  all  sides.  They  wore  what 
they  had  left  or  conld  get  without  question  of  the 
fitness  of  things.  Ilich  dresses  were  worn  by 
some  ladies  l)ecause  they  had  no  other's  left;  the 
gentlemen  drew  on  their  A^ardrobes  till  scarcely 
a  fine  unsoiled  suit  was  left. 

HARDSHIPS. 

The  dust  has  been  spoken  of  as  intolerable. 
The  word  hardly  expresses  the  situation ;  in  fact, 
I  can  not  say  the  English  language  contains  the 
word  to  define  it.  Here  was  a  moving  mass  of 
humanity  and  dumb  brutes  at  times  mixed  in 
inextricable  confusion  a  hundred  feet  wide  or 
more.  At  times  two  coluirais  of  wagons  travel- 
ing on  parallel  lines  and  near  each  other  served 
as  a  barrier  to  prevent  loose  stock  from  crossing, 


THE    OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  71 

but  usually  there  would  be  an  almost  inextricable 
mass  of  cows,  young  cattle,  horses,  and  footmen 
moving  along  the  outskirts.  Here  and  there 
would  be  the  drivers  of  loose  stock,  some  on  foot 
and  some  on  horseback;  a  young  girl  nuiybe  rid- 
ing astride  with  a  younger  child  behind,  going 
here  an<l  there  after  an  intractible  cow,  while  the 
molbcr  could  be  seen  in  the  confusion  lending  a 
heli>iug  hand.  As  in  a  thronged  city  street,  no 
one  seeined  to  look  to  the  right  or  to  the  left,  or 
l>ay  much  if  any  attention  to  others,  bent  alone 
ou  accomplishment  of  their  task  in  hand.  Over 
all,  in  calm  weather  at  times  the  dust  would  set- 
tle so  thick  that  the  lea<l  teaui  of  oxen  could  not 
be  seen  from  tlie  wagon;  like  a  London  fog,  so 
thick  one  might  almost  cut  it.^  Then  again,  that 
steady  flow  of  wind  U])  to  and  through  the  South 
Pass  would  hurl  the  dust  aud  sau<l  in  one's  face 
some!  iiiies  with  force  enough  lo  sting  from  the 
impact   upon  the  face  and  hands. 

Then  ^^■e  had  storms  that  were  not  of  sand  and 
wind  alone;  storms  that  only  a  Platte  vaUey  in 


'The  author  spent  four  winters  in  London  on  the  world's 
hop  market,  and  perhaps  has  a  more  vivid  reeolleetion  of 
what  is  meant  Ijy  a  London  fos  than  would  l)e  understood 
i)y  the  general  reader.  I  have  seen  the  log  and  smoke 
there  so  hiaek  that  one  eould  not  sec;  his  hand  held  at 
arm's  lenf^h,  and  it  reminded  me  of  Bome  of  the  scenes  of  the 
dust  on  the  plains. 


72  THE   OX    TEAM   OR 

summer  or  a  Piiget  Soimd  winter  might  turn 
out;  storms  that  would  wet  to  the  slvin  in  less 
time  than  it  takes  to  write  this  sentence.  One 
such  I  remember  being  caught  in  while  out  on 
watch.  The  cattle  traveled  so  fast  it  was  difficult 
to  keep  up  with  them.  I  could  do  nothing  else 
than  follow,  as  it  would  have  been  as  impossible 
to  turn  them  as  it  would  have  been  to  change  the 
direction  of  the  wind.  I  have  always  thought  of 
this  as  a  cloudburst.  Anyway,  there  was  not  a 
dry  thread  left  on  me  in  an  incredibly  short  time. 
My  boots  were  as  full  of  water  as  if  I  had  been 
wading  over  l)oot-top  deep,  and  the  Avater  ran 
through  my  hat  as  if  it  had  been  a  sieve,  almost 
blinding  me  in  the  fury  of  wind  and  water.  Many 
tents  were  leveled,  and  in  fact  such  occurrences 
as  fallen  tents  were  not  uncommon.  One  of  our 
neighboring  trains  suffered  no  inconsiderable 
loss  by  the  sheets  of  water  on  the  ground,  float- 
ing their  camp  equipage,  ox  yokes,  and  all  loose 
articles  away;  and  they  only  narrowly  escaped 
having  a  Avagon  engulfed  in  the  raging  torrent 
that  came  so  unexpectedly  upon  them.  Such 
were  some  of  the  discomforts  on  the  Plains  in 
'52. 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  73 

C)u  my  11)01)  trip  1  have  eucountered  very  little 
dust,  lu  the  early  part  of  it  we  had  some  fu- 
rious raius,  considerable  suow,  and  a  little  hail, 
hut  we  had  no  watches  to  make,  no  stock  to  fol- 
](}w,  no  fear  but  that  Twist  and  Dave  would  be 
easily  found  when  morning  came.  These  faith- 
ful oxen  soon  came  to  know  the  hand  that  fed 
ihem,  and  almost  invariably  would  come  to  the 
wagon  at  nightfall  for  their  nose  bags  of  rolled 
ojits  or  cracked  corn.  Nevertheless,  the  trip  has 
not  been  entirely  a  picnic  and  entirely  devoid  of 
(•arcs  and  fatigue.  Too  much- of  a  good  thing,  it 
is  said,  spoils  the  whole.  And  so  it  is  with  travel 
<lay  in  and  day  out,  from  week  to  week,  month  to 
month,  till  the  year  is  half  gone.  It  is,  to  say  the 
least,  'Svearin',"  using  an  old-time  western  phrase 
!lie  reader  will  understand,  Avhether  he  vxor 
heard  it  before  or  not.  IJut  to  my  friends  who 
\\(»iihl  liav<*  it  ih'di  I  was  to  encounter  untold 
hardshi])s;  that  I  was  "going  out  on  the  Plains 
lo  die'';  (hat  I  would  never  get  back  alive — 1 
conjure  such  to  sleej)  soundly  and  not  let  the 
hardships  bother  Ihem,  for  I  have  not  yet  met 
my  sick  day  for  Ihe  fifty-four  years  since  passing 
this  great  river,  the  JNIissouri.  And  now  let  us 
lake  up  the  thread  of  particulars  of  our  journey 
wesl  ward. 


74  THE    OX   TEAM   OR 


CHAPTER  IX. 

KiVEK  Crossings. 
WAGON  BEDS  AS  BOATS. 
N  1852  there  were  but  few  ferries  and  none  in 


I 


many  places  where  crossings  were  to  be 
made,  and  ^^ilere  here  and  there  a  ferr}'  was  found 
the  charges  were  high,  or  perhaps  the  word  should 
be  exorbitant,  and  out  of  reach  of  a  large  ma- 
jority of  the  emigrants.  In  my  own  case,  all  my 
funds  had  been  absorbed  in  procuring  m^^  outfit 
at  Eddyyille,  Iowa,  not  dreaming  there  would  be 
use  for  money  "on  the  Plains,"  where  there  were 
neither  supplies  nor  people.  We  soon  found  out 
our  mistake,  however,  and  became  watchful  to 
mend  matters  when  opportunity  offered.  The 
crossing  of  Snake  river,  though  late  in  the  trip, 
gave  the  opportunity. 

About  thirty  miles  below  Salmon  Falls  the 
dilemma  confronted  us  to  either  cross  the  river 
or  let  our  teams  starve  on  the  trii>  down  the  river 
on  the  south  bank.  Some  trains  had  caulked 
three  wagon-beds  and  lashed  them  together  and 
were  crossing,  and  would  uot  help  others  across 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  75 

fi)i-  less  tbau  three  to  live  dollars  a  wagou,  the 
parly  swiiiimiiig  their  owu  stock.  If  others  could 
cross  ill  A\agou-beds,  why  could  I  not  do  so  like- 
wise? and  without  much  ado  all  the  old  clothing 
that  could  possibly  be  spared  was  marshaled,  tar 
buckets  ransacked,  old  chisels  and  broken  knives 
hunted  up,  and  a  veritable  boat  repairing  and 
caulking  campaign  inaugurated;  and  shortly  the 
wag(m  box  rode  placidly,  even  if  not  gracefully 
on  the  turbul  waters  of  the  formidable  river.  It 
liad  been  my  fortune  to  be  the  strongest  pliysic- 
ally  of  any  of  our  little  party  of  four  men,  though 
I  ANOuld  cheerfully  accept  a  second  place 
iiiciilally. 

My  boyliood  pranks  of  playing  and  pa<ldling 
b»gs  or  old  leaky  skiffs  in  the  waters  of  White 
r'wi'V  now  serv^ed  me  well,  for  I  could  row  a  boat 
even  if  1  had  never  taken  lessons  as  an  athlete. 
My  first  venture  across  Snake  river  was  witii  the 
whole  (»f  (he  wagon  gear  run  ovei'  (he  wagon  box, 
the  \\li(ih'  being  gi-adually  worked  out  into  deep 
wnief.  The  b»ad  was  so  heavy  that  a  very  small 
niai'uin  was  left  lo  ])revent  tlie  water  from  break- 
inu  (,\('r  I  he  sides,  and  some  actually  did  as  lighl 
ii|»|»les  on  tiie  surface  siruck  llu'  "Mary  .lane," 
as  we  had  chrislened  (without  wine)  the  "craft" 


76  THE    OX   TEAM   OR 

as  she  was  laiiiiclied.  But  I  got  over  safely;  yet 
after  that  took  lighter  loads  aud  really  enjoyed 
the  novelty  of  the  work  and  the  change  from  the 
intolerable  dust  to  the  atmosphere  of  the  water. 

DOWN  SNAKE  RIVER  IN  WAGON  BOXES. 

{Some  were  so  infatuated  with  the  idea  of  tloat- 
ing  on  the  water  as  to  be  easily  i)ersuaded  by  an 
unprincipled  trader  at  tlie  lower  crossing  to  dis- 
pose of  their  teams  for  a  song,  and  embark  in 
their  A\agon  beds  for  a  voyage  down  the  river. 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  all  such  (of  which  there 
were  a  goodly  number)  lost  everything  they  had 
and  some  their  lives,  the  survivors,  after  incred- 
ible hardships,  reaching  the  road  again  to  become 
objects  of  charity  where  separated  entirely  from 
friends.  I  knew  one  survivor,  who  yet  lives  in 
our  state,  that  ^^■as  out  seven  days  Avithout  food 
other  than  a  scant  supph'  of  berries  and  vegetable 
growth,  aud  "a  few  crickets,  but  not  many,"  as  it 
was  too  laborious  to  catch  them. 

We  had  no  trouble  to  cross  the  cattle,  although 
the  river  was  wide.  Dandy  Avould  do  almost  any- 
thing I  asked  of  him,  so,  leading  him  to  the 
water's  edge,  witli  a  little  coaxing  I  got  him  into 
swimming  water  and  guided  him  across  with  the 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  77 

wagon  bed,  Avliile  the  others  all  followed,  having 
been  driven  into  the  deep  water  following  the 
leader.  It  seems  almost  incredible  how  pas- 
sively obedient  cattle  will  become  after  long 
training  on  such  a  trip  in  crossing  streams. 

We  had  not  finished  crossing  when  tempting 
offers  came  from  others  to  cross  them,  but  all  of 
our  party  said  "Xo,  we  must  travel."  The  rule 
had  been  adopted  to  travel  some  every  day  pos- 
sible. Travel,  travel,  travel,  Avas  the  watchword, 
and  nothing  would  divert  us  from  that  resolu- 
tion, and  so  on  the  third  day  we  were  ready  to 
pull  out  from  the  river  with  the  cattle  rested 
fr«jm  the  enforced  detention. 

liut  what  about  the  lower  crossing?  Those 
w  ho  had  crossed  over  the  river  must  somehow  or 
another  get  back.  It  was  less  than  150 
iiiih's  to  where  we  were  again  to  cross  back 
to  the  south  side  (left  bank)  of  the  river.  I 
could  walk  that  in  three  days,  while  it  would 
take  our  teams  ten.  Could  I  not  go  ahead,  pro- 
cure a  wagon-box  and  start  a  ferry  of  my  own? 
Tlir^  thouglit  prompted  an  affirmative  answer  at 
once;  so  with  a  little  food  and  a  small  blanket 
I  he  ti'i|>  lo  tlie  lower  ci'ossiug  was  made.  It  may 
be  ludicrous,  but  is  true,  that  the  most  1  remem- 


78  THE   OX   TEAjSI    OK 

ber  about  that  trip  is  the  jack  rabbits — such 
swarms  of  them  I  had  never  seen  before  as  I  trav- 
eled down  the  JJoise  valley,  and  never  ex^^ect  to 
see  the  like  again.  The  trip  was  luade  in  safety, 
but  conditions  were  ditfereut.  xVt  the  lower 
crossing,  as  I  have  already  said,  some  were  dis- 
posing of  their  teams  and  starting  to  float  down 
the  river;  some  were  fording,  a  perilous  under- 
taking, but  most  of  them  succeeded  who  tried, 
and  besides  a  trader  ^^'hose  name  I  have  forgott(m 
had  an  established  ferry  near  the  old  fort 
(Boise).  But  I  soon  obtained  the  wagon-bed 
and  was  at  work  during  all  of  the  daylight  hours 
(no  eight-hour-a-day  there)  crossing  people  till 
the  teauis  came  up,  an<l  for  several  days  after, 
and  left  the  river  with  |110  in  m}'  pocket,  all  of 
which  was  gone  before  I  arrived  in  Portland, 
save  12.75. 

I  did  not  look  upon  that  work  then  other  than 
as  a  part  of  tlu^  trip  to  do  the  best  we  could. 
None  of  us  thought  we  were  doing  a  heroic  act 
in  crossing  the  plains  and  meeting  emergencies 
as  they  arose.  In  fact,  we  did  not  think  at  all  of 
that  phase  of  the  question.  IVIany  have,  how- 
ever, in  later  life  looked  upon  their  achievements 
with  pardonal)le  i)ride,  and  some  in  a  vain- 
glorious mood  of  mind. 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  79 

CHAPTER  X. 

Ravages  of  the  Cholera. 

TO  MANY  the  strain  upon  the  system  was 
great  and  sulteriug  intense,  and  to  such 
small  wonder  if  the  recollections  are  a  little  col- 
ored in  their  minds.  For  myself,  I  can  truly  say 
that  in  after  pioneer  life  on  Puget  Sonnd  there 
was  as  great  discomfort  as  on  the  Plains,  but 
neither  experience  laid  a  firm  grip  upon  me,  as 
may  be  testified  by  the  fact  that  in  all  that  ex- 
perience, on  the  Plains,  and  since,  to  the  day  of 
this  writing  never  have  I  been  a  day  sick  in  bed. 
But  I  saw  much  suffering  and  the  loss  of  life 
from  the  ravages  of  cholera  was  appalling. 
L.  R.  Rowland,  noAV  of  Engen,  Oregon,  recently 
fold  me  of  the  experience  of  his  train  of  twenty- 
tliree  persons,  between  the  two  crossings  of 
Snake  river,  of  which  we  have  just  written.  Of 
I  he  twenty-tliree  tliat  crossed  eleven  died  before 
they  reached  the  lower  crossing.  Other  trains 
suffered,  but  probably  few  to  such  a  great  extent, 
l^it  all  down  the  Snake  the  dust  and  heat  were 
gi-eat.  Tliey  were  intolerable  to  many  who  gave 
6 


80  THE    OX   TEAM    OK 

way  iu  despair  and  died.  Tlu^  little  young  wife, 
the  companion  now  of  so  many  years  since,  soon 
after  took  sick  and  had  to  be  carried  in  arms  np 
the  bank  of  the  Willamette  and  to  the  lodging 
honse  in  Portland,  an  easy  task  for  me,  as  the 
weight  incident  to  health  was  gone  and  the  frame 
only  left, 

THE  GREAT  PANIC. 

The  scourge  of  cholera  on  the  Platte  in  1852  is 
far  beyond  my  power  of  description.  In  later 
years  I  have  witnessed  panics  on  shipboard;  have 
experienced  the  horrors  of  the  Hight  of  a  whole 
population  from  the  grasp  of  the  Indians,  but 
never  before  nor  since  such  scenes  as  those  in  the 
thickest  of  the  ravages  of  cholera.  It  did  seem 
that  people  lost  all  control  of  themselves  and  of 
others.  Whole  trains  could  be  seen  contending 
for  the  mastery  of  the  road  by  day,  and  the  power 
of  endurance  tested  to  the  utmost  both  men 
and  beast  at  night.  The  scourge  came  from  the 
south,  as  we  met  the  trains  that  crossed  the 
Platte  and  congested  the  Trail,  one  might  almost 
say,  both  day  and  night.  And  small  wonder 
when  such  scenes  occurred  as  is  related,  Mrs, 
M.  E.  Jones,  no^^'  of  North  Yakima,  relates  that 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  81 

forty  people  of  tlieir  train  died  in  one  day  and 
two  nii»lits  before  reaching  the  crossing  of  the 
Platte.  JNlartin  Cook  of  Newbury,  Oregon,  is  my 
authority  for  the  following:  A  family  of  seven 
persons,  the  father  known  as  "Dad  Friels,"  from 
Hartford,  Warren  county,  Iowa,  all  died  of  chol- 
era and  ^yol^Q  buried  in  one  grave.  He  could  not 
tell  me  Ihe  locality  nor  the  exact  date,  but  it 
would  be  useless  to  search  for  the  graves,  as  all 
such  have  long  ago  been  leveled  by  the  passing 
(»f  the  hoofs  of  the  buffalo  or  domestic  stock,  or 
iiict  the  fate  of  hundreds  of  shallow  graves,  dese- 
crated by  the  hungry  Avolves.  AV^hile  camped 
w  ith  a  sick  brother  four  days  a  short  distance 
al)ove  Grand  Island,  by  actual  count  of  one  day 
and  estinuite  for  three,  sixteen  hundred  wagons 
passed  by,  and  a  neighboring  burial  place  grew 
from  a  few  to  fiftv-two  fresh  iiraves. 


82  THE   OX    TEAM    OR 

CHAPTEE  XI. 

The  Ox  Team  Monument  Expedition. 

TO  PERPP:TUxVTE  the  identity  of  the  Trail 
made  by  the  early  sturdy  pioneers,  the 
battle-ground  of  peace,  to  honor  the  memories  of 
these  true  heroes  and  to  kindle  in  the  l)reasts  of 
the  rising  generation  a  tiame  of  patriotic  senti- 
ment, this  expedition  A\'as  undertaken. 

The  ox  team  was  chosen  as  a  typical  reminder 
of  pioneer  days,  an  eft'ective  instrument  to  at- 
tract attention,  arouse  enthusiasm,  and  a  help 
to  secure  aid  to  forward  the  Avork  of  marking  the 
old  Trail,  and  erecting  monuments  in  centers  of 
I)opulation. 

In  one  respect  the  object  Avas  attained,  that  of 
attracting  attention,  with  results  in  part  wholly 
unexpected.  I  had  hardly  driven  the  outfit  out 
of  my  dooryard  till  the  work  of  defacing  the 
wagon  and  wagon  cover,  and  even  the  nice  map 
of  the  old  Trail  began.  First  I  noticed  a  name 
or  two  AA'ritten  on  the  wngon-l)ed,  then  a  dozen 
or  more,  all  stealthily  placed  there,  until  the 
whole  was  so  closely  covered  there  was  no  room 
for  more.    Finalh^  the  vandals  began  carving  in- 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  83 

itials  on  tlie  bed,  cutting  oft"  pieces  to  carry  away, 
until  I  finally  put  a  stop  to  it  by  employing  a 
special  police,  posting  notices,  and  nabbing  some 
in  the  very  act. 

Give  me  Indians  on  the  Plains  to  contend  Avith, 
give  me  fleas,  ah,  yes,  the  detested  sage  brush 
licks  to  burrow  in  your  flesh,  but  deliver  me 
from  the  degenerates  of  cheap  notoriety  seekers. 

Many  good  people  have  thought  there  Avas 
some  organization  behind  this  work,  or  that  there 
liad  ])een  government  aid  secured.  To  all  sucli 
and  to  those  who  may  read  these  lines  I  will  (piote 
from  the  cards  Issued  at  tlie  outset: 

'^Tlie  ex]>ense  of  this  expedition  to  perpetuate 
Ibe  memory  of  the  old  Oregon  Trail,  by  erecting 
s(one  monunu^nts,  is  borne  by  myself  except  such 
volunfjiry  aid  as  nuiy  be  given  by  those  taking  an 
i  111  crest  in  tlie  work,  and  you  are  respectfully 
solicited  to  contribute  such  sum  as  may  be 
convenient." 

To  this  appeal  a  generous  response  has  been 
made,  as  attested  by  the  lijie  of  monuments  from 
I'ugcl  Sound  to  this  point,  a  brief  account  of 
wiiicli,  wilb  iiH-idciils  of  lliis  li-ip  ;in(l  of  Ibe  Iriji 
iii;i(|('  by  nic  will)  an  ox  :iii(i  cow  Icani  in  IS,">2, 
will   fo1b>\v. 


THE    OLD   OllEGON    TRAIL  85 

THE  TEAM. 

The  team  consists  of  one  seven-year-old  ox, 
Twist,  and  one  unbroken  range  four-year-old 
steer,  Da^e.  ^^'llen  we  were  ready  to  start,  Twist 
weighed  1,470  and  Dave  1,5(50  pounds,  respect- 
ively. This  order  of  weight  was  soon  changed. 
In  three  months'  time  Twist  gained  130  and  Dave 
lost  10  pounds.  All  this  time  I  fed  with  a  lavish 
hand  all  the  rolled  barley  1  dare  and  all  the  hay 
they  would  eat.  During  that  time  thirty-three 
(lays  lapsed  in  Avhich  Ave  did  not  travel,  being 
engaged  either  arranging  for  the  erection  or  dedi- 
caiion  of  monuments. 

TEAM  OF  1852 

My  team  of  1852  consisted  of  two  unbroken 
steers  and  two  cows.  The  cows  I  had  to  give  up 
lo  save  the  life  of  (he  oxen  during  the  deep  snow 
that  fell  in  the  winter  of  1852-53.  The  oxen 
hauled  our  belongings  over  to  the  head  of  Puget 
Soiniil  in  .Inly,  18.53,  and  1  there  parted  with 
I  hem.  Of  that  ])arting  1  <|Uote  from  my  work 
"I'ioneer  Keminiscences  of  Puget  Sound:" 

'•What  1  am  now  about  lo  write  may  ])rovoke 
;i  smih-,  hul  1  e;iii  ouiv  sav,  reader,  put  yourself 
ill  my  |ibi-c.     Tluit   i  liei-e  sliouhl  be  a  feeling  akin 


86  THE   OX   TEAM    OR 

to  affection  between  a  man  and  an  ox  will  seem 
l^ast  comprehension  to  many.  The  time  had  come 
when  Buck  and  Dandy  and  1  must  part  for  good 
and  all.  1  could  not  transport  them  to  our  island 
home,  neither  provide  for  them.  These  patient, 
dumb  brutes  had  been  my  close  companions  for 
the  long,  weary  months  on  the  Plains,  and  had 
never  failed  me;  they  would  do  my  bidding  to  the 
letter.  I  often  said  Buck  understood  English 
better  than  some;  people  1  had  seen  in  my  life- 
time. I  had  done  A\hat  not  one  in  a  hundred  did; 
that  was  to  start  on  that  trip  with  an  unbroken 
ox  and  cow  team.  I  had  selected  these  four-year- 
old  steers  for  their  intelligent  eyes  as  well  as  for 
their  trim  build,  and  had  made  no  mistake.  We 
had  bivouacked  together ;  actually  slept  together ; 
lunched  together.  They  knew  me  as  far  as  they 
could  see,  and  seemed  delighted  to  obey  my  word, 
and  I  did  regret  to  feel  constrained  to  part  with 
them.  I  knew  they  had  assured  my  safe  transit 
on  the  weary  journey,  if  not  even  to  the  point  of 
having  saved  my  life.  I  could  pack  them,  ride 
them,  drive  them  b3^  the  word  and  receive  their 
salutations,  and  why  should  I  be  ashauied  to  part 
with  feelings  of  more  than  regret?'' 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  87 

I  have  no  such  feelings  for  the  brute  Twist,  for 
on  April  12  he  kicked  me,  almost  broke  my  knee, 
and  came  near  disabling  me  for  life,  and  Dave  is 
worse,  for  they  both  kick  like  government  mules. 
If  the  reader  happens  to  know  how  that  is  he  will 
appreciate  the  definition.  Twist,  however,  is  the 
Ix'st  all  round  ox  I  ever  saw.  Dave  has  not  yet 
lost  liis  range  spirit  entirely,  and  sometimes  gets 
iii;h1  ;ni<i  unruly. 

THE  WAGON. 

The  WMgon  is  new  woodwork  lliroughout  except 
one  hub,  which  did  service  across  the  Plains  in 
l.sr)3.  The  hub  Imnds,  boxes,  and  other  irons  are 
from  two  old-time  wagons  that  crossed  the  Plains 
ill  1853,  and  differ  some  in  size  and  shape;  hence 
I  lie  fore  and  hind  wheel  liubs  do  not  match.  The 
axles  are  wood,  with  the  old-time  linch  pins  and 
steel  skeins,  involving  the  use  of  tar  and  tlic^  tar 
Imcket.  The  bed  is  of  tlie  old  style  "prairie 
schoon(V  so-<;ille<l  (see  illustration,  page  H»  i 
fiishioued  as  a  boat,  like  those  of  "ye  obleu 
limes.'"  I  crossed  Snake  river  iu  two  plac«'s  in 
1S.')L',  with  :ill  1  possessed  (except  the  oxeli  Mild 
cows  I,  including  llie  niniiiiig-gear  of  the  w;igon, 
in  :i  wjigon-box  iiol  ;is  good  :is  this  one  shown  in 
the  illustration. 


THE    OLD   OREGON   TRAIL  89 

CAMP  NO.  1. 

Cami)  No.  1  \\-as  in  my  owu  front  dooryard  at 
Piiyalhip.  Washingtou  (see  illustration,  page 
S8),  a  town  established  on  my  own  homestead 
nearly  forty  years  ago,  on  the  line  of  the  North- 
ern Pacific  railroad,  nine  miles  southeast  of  Ta- 
fOMia,  and  thirty  miles  south  of  Seattle,  Wash- 
i)ii;l<m.  In  platling  the  town  I  dedicated  a  park 
and  called  it  Pioneer  Park,  and  in  it  are  the  re- 
mains of  our  old  ivy-covered  cabin,  Avhere  the 
\\ife  of  fifty-five  years  ago  and  I,  with  our  grow- 
ing family,  spent  so  many  happy  hours.  In  this 
same  town  I  named  the  principal  thoroughfare 
Pi(meer  Avenue,  and  a  short  street  abutting  the 
park  Pioneer  Way,  hence  the  reader  may  note 
it  is  not  a  new  idea  with  me  to  perpetuate  the 
memory  of  the  pioneers. 

No  piece  of  machinery  ever  runs  at  the  start 
as  well  as  after  trial ;  therefore  Camp  No.  1  was 
maintained  several  days  to  mend  up  the  Aveak 
points,  and  so  after  a  few  days  of  trial  (?very- 
iliing  was  prononnced  in  order,  and  Camp  Xo.  2 
was  j)itch('(l  in  the  sjrcct  in  fi-ont  of  the  Meth- 
odist cliiii-.li  (,r  the  town,  and  a  Icclnre  delivered 
'"  'lie  •liiii-cli  for  llic  b.'iiclil  of  ilic  ('\j»<'(lili(.ii. 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  91 

TUMWATER,  WASHINGTON. 

The  final  start  A^■as  made  from  Camp  No.  9  at 
Olympia,  AVasliington,  the  capital  of  the  state  of 
A^'ashin^>■toD,  February  19,  1906,  and  but  two 
miles  from  the  eud  of  the  old  Trail, — in  early 
days  of  Oregon  l)ut  now  A\^asliington.  The  drive 
to  Tumwater  was  made,  a  post  set  at  the  end  of 
the  Trail,  and  subsequently  arrangements  com- 
pleted to  substitute  an  inscribed  stone. 

TENINO  MONUMENT. 

A(  Tcniiio  the  citizens  had  prepared  and  in- 
scribed a  suitable  stone,  and  on  Fel)ruary  21  t\w. 
same  A\'as  dedicated  with  due  ceremony,  with 
nearly  the  whole  population  in  attendance. 

CENTRALIA,  WASHINGTON. 

Al  (  (Milralia  contributions  were  made  siH'ti- 
ciciil  to  waii-aiit  ordering  an  inscribed  slonc, 
wliich  was  (h>n(',  and  in  due  time  was  |)la<'ed  in 
lM)si<i()ii  at  the  intersection  of  the  Trail  and  road 
a  short  way  out  from  the  city. 

CHEHALIS,  WASHINGTON. 

At  ("licliaiis  a  point  was  selecte<l  in  Ibc  ccnicr 
(>r  the  street  at   the  ]»;!i-k,  an<l  a  post  set  to  mark 


92  THE    OX   TEAM   Oil 

the  .spot  wlierci  the  iiioiuimeut  is  to  stand.  The 
eomiiiercial  club  undertook  the  work,  but  Avere 
not  ready  to  erect  and  dedicate,  as  a  more  expen- 
sive monument  than  one  that  could  be  speedily 
obtained  would  be  provided  as  an  ornament  to 
the  park. 

I  very  Advidly  recollected  this  section  of  the 
old  Trail,  having,  in  company  with  a  brotlier, 
packed  my  blankets  and  ''grub"  on  my  back  over 
it  in  May,  1853,  and  camped  on  it  near  by  over 
night,  under  the  sheltering,  drooping  branches 
of  a  friendly  cedar  tree.  We  did  not  carry  tents 
on  such  a  trij),  but  slept  out  under  the  open  can- 
opy of  heaven,  obtaining  such  shelter  as  we  could 
from  day  to  day. 

CLAQUATO,  WASHINGTON. 

It  is  permissible  to  note  the  liberality  of  H.  C. 
Davis  of  Claquato,  wlio  provided  a  fund  of  .|.50 
to  erect  a  monument  at  Claquato  and  .|50  for  the 
purchase  of  one  ox  for  the  expedition. 

JACKSONS. 

John  R.  Jackson  was  the  first  American  citi- 
zen to  settle  north  of  the  Columbia  river.  One 
of  the  daughters,   Mrs.   Ware,   accompanied  by 


THE   OLD   OKEGON    TRAIL  93 

lior  Iiusbaiid,  indiotited  the  spot  where  the  mouii- 
ineiit  should  be  erected,  and  a  post  was  planted. 
A  touching  incident  occurred  when  Mrs.  Ware 
was  requested  to  put  the  post  in  place  and  hold 
it  while  her  husband  tamped  the  earth  around 
it,  which  she  did  with  tears  streaming  from  her 
eyes  at  the  thought  that  at  last  her  pioneer  fath- 
er's place  in  histoiy  was  to  be  recognized.  A 
stone  A\as  ordered  at  once,  to  soon  take  the  place 
of  the  post. 

TOLEDO,  WASHINGTON. 

This  village,  the  last  i)lace  to  reach  on  the  old 
Ti-aij  ill  \\'ashington,  is  on  the  Cowlitz,  a  mile 
from  the  landing  where  the  pioneers  left  the  river 
f(M   the  overland  trail  to  the  Sound. 

To  this  point  in  July,  1853,  I  shipped  my  scant 
belongings  fr(mi  the  Columbia  river,  my  wife  go- 
ing up  in  th(-  same  canoe,  while  T  drove  Buck  and 
Dandy  up  the  trail  on  the  left  bank  of  the  river. 
A  post  was  planted  liere  on  the  Trail,  and  a  prom- 
ise made  lliat  a  sioiie  monument  should  soon 
replace  it. 

PORTLAND,  OREGON. 

I'l-om  Toledo  I  slii|)ped  by  river  steamer  the 
whole  outfit,  and  look  passage  with  my  assistants 


94  THE   OX    TEAM    Oil 

to  Portlaud,  thus  reversing  the  order  of  travel  in 
1853,  accepting  the  use  of  steam  instead  of  the 
brawn  of  the  arm  of  stalwart  men  and  Indians 
to  propel  the  canoe,  and  arrived  on  the  evening 
of  March  1,  and  on  the  morning  of  March  2 
pitched  our  camp  in  the  heart  of  the  city  on  a 
beautiful  block,  the  property  of  Jacob  Kamm. 
I  remained  in  camp  here  until  the  morning  of 
March  9,  to  test  the  question  of  securing  aid  for 
the  expedition. 

Very  different  was  the  experience  Avhen,  on 
October  1,  1852,  I  carried  my  sick  wife  in  my 
arms  up  the  bank  of  the  Willamette  river  three 
blocks  away  to  a  colored  man's  lodging  house  in 
Portland,  with  but  |2.75  in  my  pocket  and  no 
resource  but  my  labor. 

Except  for  the  eff'orts  of  that  indefatigable 
worker,  George  H.  Himes,  assistant  secretary  of 
the  Oregon  Historical  Society,  with  headquarters 
in  Portland,  no  helping  hand  was  extended.  Not 
but  that  the  citizens  took  a  lively  interest  in  the 
"novel  undertaking,"  in  this  "unique  outfit,"  yet 
the  fact  became  evident  that  only  the  few  be- 
lieved the  work  could,  be  successfully  done  by 
individual  effort,  and  that  government  aid  should 
be  invoked.     The  prevailing  opinion  was  voiced 


THE    OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  <)5 

by  a  proiiiiiH'iit  citizeu,  a  trustee  of  a  clmrcli, 
who  voted  against  allowmo  the  use  of  the  ehurch 
for  a  lecture  for  the  beuelit  of  the  expedition, 
wlien  he  said  that  he  ''did  not  want  to  do  any- 
lliiiii;  to  encourage  that  ohi  man  to  go  out  on  the 
JMains  to  die."  XotAvithstauding  this  sentiment, 
tlirough  Mr.  liimes's  efforts  nearly  |200  was 
contributed. 

March  10,  in  early  morning  hours,  embarked 
at  I'oi'tland  on  the  steamer  Haily  (jiatzert,  for 
The  Dalles,  which  phice  was  reached  after  night, 
but  enlivened  by  a  warm  reception  from  the  citi- 
zens aA\aiting  our  arrival,  who  conducted  us  to  a 
caiiiping  place  that  had  been  selected. 

Upon  this  steamer  one  can  enjoy  all  the  lux- 
uries of  civilized  life,  a  continuous  trip  now  be- 
ing made  through  the  government  locks  at  the 
cascades.  The  tables  are  sui)plied  with  delicacies 
the  season  affords,  with  clean  linen  for  the  beds, 
and  obse(|nious  allcndants  to  snjtply  (he  wants 
of  th(,*  travelers. 

''What  clmnges  time  has  wrought,"  I  ex- 
cbiinicd.  "(';in  lliis  be  the  same  Columbia  river 
wliicli  I  li-aversed  Ijfty-four  yeai-s  ago?  Yes,  there 
are  tiic  niighly  nionniains,  (he  wonderfnl  waler- 
talls,  tlie  siini.eii  l'(»i-es(s,  each  aHi'siing  the  ich'U- 
7 


0()  THE    ox    TEAM    OK 

tity  of  the  sjjot;  but  Avhat  about  the  couditious?"" 
Reader,  pardou  uie  if  I  luake  a  digressiou  aud 
quote  from  my  rcmiuisccnces  au  account  of  that 
trip  fifty-four  years  ajio. 


o 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TKAIL  97 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Floating  Down  the  IIivek.^ 

>.'  A  Scplcnilx'i'  day  of  1852  au  assemblage 
of  persons  could  be  seen  encamped  on  the 
1  tanks  of  the  great  Columbia,,  at  The  Dalles,  now 
a  city  of  no  small  pretensions,  but  then  only  a 
name  for  the  peculiar  configuration  of  country 
adjacent  to  and  including  rhe  waters  of  the  great 
ri\('r.  One  would  soon  discover  this  assemblage 
was  constantly  changing.  Every  few  hours 
stragglers  canu'  in  from  off  the  dusty  road,  be- 
grimed Avith  the  sweat  of  the  brow  commingh'd 
witli  particles  of  dust  driven  through  tli(^  air, 
soiiicliiiies  by  a  gentle  breeze,  and  then  again  by 
a  violent  gab'  s>\-eeping  up  the  river  tliroiigh  the; 
mountain  gaj)  of  (lie  Cascade  range.  A  molley 
ri-()\\(l  I  licse  ]»('opl('  were,  almost  cosm(>]»ol ilaii  in 
nationality,  yd  all  vesiigc  of  i-ace  ix'culiai'il  ics 
oi-  race  jtrejudices  gi-omid  away  in  the  mill  of 
ndvci'sily  and  (i-ials  common  jo  nil  alike  in  com- 

'From  "Pionoer  Reminiscences  of  Puget  Sound,  The 
TraROfly  of  Leschi."  by  Ezra  Meeker,  published  and  sold 
by  (he  author.  (1x9,  fiOO  pages,  cloth  $3.00;  leather  $4.00. 
Puyallup,  Washington. 


98  THE   OX    TEAM    OR 

mull  daiigei*.  And  yet,  the  dress  and  appearance 
of  this  assemblage  were  as  varied  as  the  huiiuui 
countenance  and  as  unique  as  the  great  mountain 
scenery  before  them.  Home  were  chid  in  scanty 
attire  as  soiled  with  the  dust  as  their  l)rows; 
others,  while  with  better  pretensions,  lacked 
some  ijortions  of  dress  required  in  civilized  life. 
Here  a  matronly  dame  with  clean  apparel  Avould 
be  without  shocks,  or  there,  perhaps,  the  husband 
without  the  hat  or  perhaps  both  shoes  and  hat 
absent;  there  the  youngsters  of  all  ag^s,  making 
no  pretensions  to  genteel  clothing  other  than  to 
cover  their  nakedness.  An  expert's  ingenuity 
would  be  taxed  to  the  utmost  to  discover  either 
the  texture  or  original  color  of  the  clothing  of 
either  juvenile  or  adult,  so  prevailing  was  the 
patchwork  and  so  inground  the  particles  of  dust 
and  sand  from  off  the  Plains. 

"Home  of  these  people  Avere  buoyant  and  hoi)e- 
ful  in  the  anticipation  of  meeting  friends  whom 
they  knew  were  awaiting  them  at  their  journey'^ 
end,  while  others  were  downcast  and  despondent 
as  their  thoughts  went  back  to  their  old  homes 
left  behind,  and  the  struggle  now  so  near  ended, 
and  forward  to  the  (to  them)  unknown  land 
ahead.     Some  had  laid  friends  and  relatives  ten- 


THE   OLD   OREGON   TRAIL  99 

(lerly  away  in  the  shifting  sands,  who  had  fallen 
by  the  wayside,  with  the  e(H'tain  knowledg(3  that 
Avith  many  the  spot  selected  by  them  would  not 
be  the  last  resting  place  for  the  bones  of  the  loved 
ones.  The  hunger  of  the  Avolf  had  been  appeased 
))y  the  abundance  of  food  from  the  fallen  cattle 
that  lined  the  trail  for  a  thousand  miles  or  more, 
or  from  the  weakened  beasts  of  the  emigrants 
that  constantly  submitted  to  capture  by  the  re- 
lentless native  animals.  Not  so  for  the  future, 
when  this  sujjply  of  food  had  disappeared. 

"The  story  of  the  trip  across  the  Plains  in  1852 
is  both  intcn'esting  and  pathetic,  but  I  have 
planned  to  write  of  life  after  the  journey  rather 
than  much  about  the  journey  itself;  of  the  trials 
that  beset  the  people  after  their  five  months' 
struggle  on  the  tented  field  of  two  thousand  miles 
of  marching  was  ended,  where,  lik(!  on  the  very 
battlefield,  the  dead  lay  in  rows  of  fifties  or 
more;  where  the  trail  l)ecame  so  lined  with  fallen 
animals  rme  could  scarcely  be  out  of  sight  or 
smell  of  cari'ion  ;  whci-e  llie  sick  had  no  respite 
from  siirtcriiig  iioi-  I  lie  well  IVom  faligiie.  l»ut 
this  oft-told  story  is  a  subject  of  itself,  treated 
Iii-ictJy  to  the  end  \v<'  may  have  s])ace  to  tell  what 
li;i|»j»eiie(l   \\  lien   (lie   j(»iiniey   w as  ended. 


100  THE    OX    TEAM    OR 

"The  constant  gathering  on  the  bank  of  the 
Columbia  and  constant  de^jartures  of  the  emi- 
grants did  not  nmterially  change  the  numbers 
encamped,  nor  the  general  appearance.  The 
great  trip  had  moulded  this  army  of  home-seek- 
ers into  one  homogenous  mass,  a  common  broth- 
erhood, that  left  a  lasting  imjiression  upon  the 
participants,  and,  although  few  are  left  now,  not 
one  but  A\'ill  greet  an  old  comrade  as  a  brother 
indeed,  and,  in  fact,  with  hearty  and  oftentimes 
tearful  congratulations. 

"We  camped  but  two  days  on  the  bank  of  the 
river.  When  I  say  Sve'  let  it  be  understood  that 
I  mean  myself,  my  young  wife,  and  the  little  baby 
boy,  who  was  but  seven  weeks  old  when  the  start 
was  made  from  near  Eddyville,  Iowa.  Both  were 
sick,  the  mother  from  gradual  exhaustion  during 
the  trip  incident  to  motherhood,  and  the  little 
one  in  sympathy,  doubtless  drawn  from  the  moth- 
er's breast. 

"Did  you  ever  think  of  the  wonderful  mystery 
of  the  inner  action  of  the  mind,  how  some  im- 
pressions once  made  seem  to  renuiin,  while  oth- 
ers gradually  fade  away,  like  the  twilight  of  a 
summer  sunset,  until  finally  lost?  And  tlicn 
how  seeminarlv  trivial  incidents  will  be  fastened 


TJIi:   OLD   OREGON    TILUL  101 

upon  ouevs  mcmoi-y  wliile  others  of  more  im- 
portanee  we  would  recall  if  we  could,  but  which 
ha^e  faded  forever  from  our  <j;rasp?  1  cau  well 
believe  all  readers  have  had  this  experience,  and 
so  Avill  be  prei)ared  to  receive  with  leniency  the 
confession  of  an  elderly  gentleman  (I  will  not 
say  oldj,  when  he  says  that  most  of  the  incidents 
are  forgotten  and  few  remend)ered.  I  do  not  re- 
member the  embarking  on  the  great  scow  for  the 
lh)at  down  the  river  to  the  Cascades,  but  vividly 
remember,  as  though  it  were  but  yesterday,  inci- 
dents of  the  voyage.  Me  all  felt  (I  now  mean 
the  emigrants  who  took  passage)  that  now  our 
journey  was  ended.  The  cattle  had  beeu  unyoked 
for  i\ut  last  time;  the  wagons  had  been  rolled  to 
the  last  l)iv()iiac;  the  embers  of  the  last  campfire 
had  died  out;  the  last  word  of  gossip  had  been 
spoken,  and  now,  we  were  entering  a  new  field 
with  new  i)r('sent  experience,  and  with  new  ex- 
pcclancy  lor  (lie  nioi-i-ow. 

"The  scow  or  lighter  upon  which  we  took  pas- 
sage was  decked  over,  but  without  railing,  a  sim- 
ph',  snioodi  sni'face  u])on  which  to  ])ile  our  be- 
longings, wiiicli,  in  llic  gi-cat  niaj(»i-ily  of  cases 
nia<le  bnt  a  very  small  showing.  I  think  there 
niusi  ,]i;(\c  been  a  <lo/,en  families,  or  more,  of  six!  v 


lOL*  THE   OX   TEAM    Oil 

or  iiioro  pel-sous,  priucipally  women  aud  children, 
as  the  young  men  (and  some  old  ones,  too)  were 
struggling  on  the  mountain  trail  to  get  the  teams 
through  to  the  west  side.  The  Avhole  deck  surface 
of  the  scow  was  covered  with  the  remnants  of 
the  emigrants'  outtits,  which  in  turn  were  covered 
by  the  owners,  either  sitting  or  reclining  upon 
their  possessions,  leaving  but  scaut  room  to 
change  position  or  move  about  in  any  Avay. 

'•Did  30U  ever,  reader,  have  the  experience 
when  some  sorrow  overtook  you,  or  when  some 
disappointment  had  been  experienced,  or  when 
deferred  iiopes  had  not  been  realized,  or  some- 
times even  without  these  and  from  some  un- 
known, subtle  cause,  feel  that  depression  of  spir- 
its that  for  lack  of  a  better  name  we  call  'the 
blues?'  When  the  world  ahead  looked  dark; 
when  hope  seemed  extinguished  and  the  future 
looked  like  a  blank?  AVhy  do  I  ask  this  ques- 
tion? I  know  you  all  to  a  greater  or  less  degree 
have  had  just  this  experience.  Can  you  Avonder 
that,  after  our  craft  had  been  turned  loose  upon 
the  waters  of  the  great  river,  and  begun  floating 
lazily  down  with  the  current,  that  such  a  feeling 
as  that  descriljcfl  would  seize  us  as  with  an  iron 
grip?     We  were  like  an  army  that  had  l)urned 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  103 

the  bridges  behiud  tliein  as  they  marched,  aud 
with  scant  knowledge  of  what  lay  in  the  track 
before  them.  Here  we  were,  more  than  two  thou- 
saiKl  miles  from  home,  separated  by  a  trackless, 
iniiiihabited  waste  of  country,  impossible  for  us 
to  retrace  our  steps.  Go  ahead  we  must,  no  mat- 
ter AN'hat  we  were  to  encounter.  Then,  too,  the 
system  had  been  strung  up  for  months  to  duties 
that  could  not  be  avoided  or  delayed,  until  many 
were  on  the  verge  of  collapse.  Some  were  sick 
and  all  reduced  in  flesh  from  the  urgent  call  for 
camp  duty,  and  lack  of  variety  of  food.  Sucli 
vv'ere  the  feelings  of  the  motley  crowd  of  sixty 
persons  as  we  slowly  neared  that  wonderful  crev- 
ice tlirough  A\'hi<-h  tlie  great  river  flows  while 
l>assing  Ihe  Cascade  mountain  range. 

"For  myself,  1  can  liiily  say  that  the  trip  had 
not  drawn  on  my  vitality  as  I  saw  with  so  many. 
True,  I  had  been  worked  down  in  flesh,  having 
lost  nearly  twenty  pounds  on  the  trip,  but  what 
wciglii  I  Iiad  jcfl  was  I  lie  bone  and  siuew  of  my 
syslcni,  that  serve*!  lue  so  well  ou  this  trip  and 
lias  been  my  comfort  in  other  walks  of  life  at  a 
laler  pei-jod.  Aud  so,  iC  asked,  did  you  exjx'i-i- 
euce  ]iai-(|siii|»  on  the  (i-i]»  aci'oss  Ihe  IMaiiis,  T 
r(»'ild   not   auswcr  \<'s  wilhonl   a   menial   i-eserva- 


104  THE   OX   TEAM   OK 

tion  that  it  might  have  been  a  great  deal  worse. 
I  say  the  same  as  to  after  experience,  for  these 
subsequent  fifty  years  or  more  of  pioneer  life, 
having  been  blessed  with  a  good  constitution, 
and  being  now  able  to  say  that  in  the  fifty-three 
years  of  our  married  life  the  wife  has  never  seen 
me  a  day  sick  in  bed.  But  this  is  a  digression 
and  so  we  must  turn  our  attention  to  the  trip  on 
the  scoAV,  'floating  doAvn  the  river.' 

"In  our  company,  a  party  of  three,  a  young 
married  couple  and  an  unmarried  sister  lounged 
on  their  belongings,  listlessly  watching  the  rip- 
ples on  the  water,  as  did  also  others  of  the  party. 
But  little  conversation  was  passing.  Each 
seemed  to  be  communing  with  himself  or  herself, 
but  it  was  easy  to  see  what  were  the  thoughts 
occupying  the  minds  of  all.  The  young  husband, 
it  was  plain  to  be  seen,  would  soon  complete  that 
greater  journey  to  the  unknown  beyond,  a  condi- 
tion that  weighed  so  heavily  upon  the  ladies  of 
the  party  that  they  could  ill  conceal  their  solici- 
tude and  sorrow.  Finalh^,  to  cheer  up  the  sick 
husband  and  brother,  the  ladies  began  in  sweet 
subdued  voices  to  sing  the  old  familiar  song  of 
^Home,  Sweet  Home,'  whereupon  others  of  the 
party  joined  in  the  chorus  with  increased  vol- 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  105 

lime  of  sound.  As  the  echo  of  the  echo  died  away, 
at  the  moment  of  gliding  under  the  shadow  of 
the  high  mountain,  the  second  verse  was  begun, 
l»nt  was  never  finished.  If  an  electric  shock  had 
fstartled  every  individual  of  the  party,  there  could 
have  been  no  more  simultaneous  effect  than  when 
1  he  second  line  of  the  second  verse  was  reached, 
w  hen,  instead  of  song,  sobs  and  outcries  of  grief 
poured  forth  from  all  lips.  It  seemed  as  if  there 
were  a  tujuult  of  despair  mingled  with  prayer 
pouring  forth  without  restraint.  The  rugged 
l)oatm('n  rested  upon  their  oars  in  awe  and  gave 
away  in  sympathy  with  the  scene  before  them, 
until  it  could  truly  be  said  no  dry  eyes  were  left 
nor  aching  heart  but  was  relieved.  Like  the 
downpour  of  a  sununer  shower  that  suddenly 
<  Icars  the  atmosphere  to  welcome  the  bright  shin- 
ing sun  that  follows,  so  this  sudden  outburst  of 
grief  cleared  away  the  despondency^,  to  be  re- 
placed by  an  exalted  exhilarating  feeling  of  buoy- 
ancy and  hopefulness.  The  tears  were  not  (liie*! 
lill  iiiii'lh  took  possession — a  real  hysterical  iiiau- 
ifcstjilion  of  liic  wlioic  |»ai-(y.  Ihal  ciKlcd  all  <le- 
prcssioii    i'oi-  llic  niiijiindcr  of  llie   (i*ip." 


!()()  THE    OX   TEAM   OR 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Ox  Team  Expedition  Continued. 

THE  DALLES,  OREGON. 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

''The  Dalles,  Oregon,  Camp  No.  IG,  March  10. 
Arrived  last  night  all  in  a  muss,  with  load  out 
of  the  wagon,  but  the  mate  had  his  men  put  the 
bed  on,  and  a  number  of  willing  boys  helped  to 
tumble  all  loose  articles  into  the  wagon  while 
Goebel  arranged  them,  leaving  the  boxes  for  a 
second  load.  Di'ove  nearly  three-quarters  of  a 
mile  to  a  camping  ground  near  the  park,  se- 
lected by  the  citizens;  surprised  to  find  the 
streets  muddy.  Cattle  impatient  and  walked 
very  fast,  necessitating  my  tramping  through  the 
mud  at  their  heads.  Made  second  load  while  Goe- 
bel put  up  the  tent,  and  went  to  bed  at  10 :00 
o'clock,  which  was  as  soon  as  things  were  ar- 
ranged for  the  night.  No  supper  or  even  tea,  as 
we  did  not  build  a  fire.  It  was  clear  last  night, 
l)ut  raining  this  morning,  whicli  turned  to  sleet 
and  snow  bv  9  :00  o'clock. 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  107 

"March  11.  Heavy  wiml  last  uight  that  thrcat- 
I'licd'  to  briiig  our  teut  clown  ou  our  heads  and 
^^hieh  brouglit  cold  weather;  ice  formed  in  the 
camp  half  inch  thick;  damper  of  stove  out  of 
order,  which,  with  the  wind,  drove  the  smoke  out 
of  the  stove  and  filled  the  tent  full  of  smoke, 
makinji  life  miseral>h>.  In  consequence  of  the 
weather,  the  dedication  ceremonies  were  post- 
poned." 

I'rioi-  to  h'aving  home  1  had  written  to  the 
hidies  of  the  landmark  committee  that  ui)ou  my 
arrival  at  The  Dalles  I  Avould  b(;  i)leased  to  have 
their  cooperation  to  secure  funds  to  erect  a  mon- 
ument in  their  city.  What  should  they  do  but 
put  their  heads  together  and  provide  one  already 
inscribed  and  in  place  and  notify  nu'  that  I  luid 
been  seh'cted  to  deliver  tlie  dedicatory  address 
and  that  it  was  expected  the  wlioh'  city  would 
turn  out  to  witness  tlie  ceremonies.  But  alas, 
the  fiei'ce  cold  winds  s]»oiled  all  their  well-laid 
pbins,  for  llie  <le<lication  had  to  be  postponed, 
i'inally,  n]»on  short  notice,  the  stone  was  <hily 
dedicated  on  the  12th  of  March  wilh  a  few  hnn- 
di-e(l  peojde  in  attendance  with  Iheii'  wra|>s  an<l 
(t\crcoats  on    (sec  illiisl  i-at  ion,  jta.^e  H)S). 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  109 

Jjefore  leaving  Seattle  I  had  the  oxen  shod, 
for  which  I  was  charged  the  unmerciful  price  of 
|15,  but  they  did  such  a  poor  job  that  by  the 
time  I  arrived  at  The  Dalles  all  the  shoes  but 
one  were  oft'  the  Dave  ox,  and  several  lost  oft' 
Twist,  and  the  remainder  loose,  and  so  I  Avas 
compelled  to  have  the  whole  of  the  work  done 
over  again  at  The  Dalles. 

This  time  the  work  was  xvcli  done,  all  the  shoes 
bill  one  staying  on  for  a  distance  of  600  miles, 
w  lien  we  threw  the  Dave  ox  to  replace  the  lost 
slioe,  there  being  no  stocks  at  hand.  The  charge 
at  The  Dalles  was  |10,  tlius  making  (luite 
an  inroad  upon  the  scant  fnnds  for  the  exix'di- 
tion.  I  felt  com])elled  to  have  tliem  again  sliod 
at  Kemmerer,  ANyoming,  848  miles  out  from  The 
Dalh'S,  but  soon  lost  several  shoes,  and  finally 
at  11h'  Pacific  Springs  liad  tlie  missing  shoes  re- 
]>laced  by  inex]K'ri<'nc('d  liands,  who  did  a  good 
job,  though,  for  Ihe  shoes  siayed  on  until   well 

W  Ol'll. 

On  (lie  Phiins  in  '52  l>ut  few  shod  their  cattle. 
.Many  cows  were  Avoi-ked,  and  light  steers,  and 
liiost  of  Hie  ontdls  had  spare  cadle  to  pnt  in 
llK'ir  Icaiiis  in  case  one  bccanif  lanic  or  (cndcr 
fodtcd.       1    knew    ol"   SCNcrill    l\iiiu    cowhide    sjioes 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  111 

ou  to  protect  the  feet  of  their  cattle,  while  with 
others  it  was  pitiable  to  see  the  suffering,  liiiip- 
iug,  diiml)  brutes  laljoriiig. 

OUT  FROM  THE  DALLES. 

At  3:30  I'.M.  on  ^larch  11  we  drove  out  from 
The  Dalles.  I  have  always  felt  that  here  was  the 
real  starting  point,  as  from  here  there  could  be 
no  more  shipping,  but  all  driving.  l>y  rail  it  is 
1,731  miles  from  The  Dalles  to  Omaha,  where 
our  work  on  the  old  Trail  ends.  By  wagon  road 
the  distance  is  some  greater,  but  not  much,  iH'ob- 
ably  I.SOO  miles.  Tlie  load  was  heavy  as  well  as 
llic  i-ojids.  ^^'itl1  a  team  untrained  to  the  roa<l, 
ami  one  (»\  iinlirokcii,  and  no  exix'rienced  ox 
driver,  and  tlie  gijub's  lieavy,  small  wonder  if  a 
feeling  of  de])ression  (•re])t  over  me.  On  some 
long  liills  we  coiiid  move  u])  but  one  or  two 
lengths  of  I  he  wagon  al  a  tini<',  ami  on  le\'el  roads 
willi  tJK'  least  warm  snn  the  nid)i*oken  ox  would 
poke  oMJ  liis  toiigin'.  He  was  like  the  yonng 
sjH-ig  jnsi   ont   of  school,  with   muscles  soft   and 

bl-e;illi    slio|-j. 

PENDLETON,  OREGON. 

A    fonrleen-djiys   dri\('    to    i'endleton,   Oregon, 

]^)S'-  miles,  without   meeting  any  su<-eess  in  in- 

y 


112  THE    OX   TEAM   OR 

terestiiig  people  to  help  in  the  work,  was  uot 
inspiring-.  On  this  stretch,  with  two  assistants, 
the  Trail  was  n)arke(l  with  IxHilders  and  cedar 
posts  at  intersections  with  tra\'(4ed  roads, 
river  crossings,  and  noted  camping  places, 
l)ut  no  center  of  population  was  encoun- 
tered until  I  reached  the  town  of  Pendleton. 
Here  the  commercial  cluh  took  hold  with  a  will, 
provided  the  funds  to  inscril)e  a  stone  monument, 
which  was  installed,  and  on  the  31st  of  March 
dedicated  it  (see  illustration,  page  110),  with 
over  a  thousand  people  present.  Here  one  as- 
sistant was  discharged,  the  camera  and  photo 
supplies  stored,  a  small  kodak  purchased,  and 
the  load  otherwise  lightened  by  shipping  tent, 
stove,  stereopticon,  and  other  etceteras  over  the 
IJlue  mountains  to  La  Grand. 

On  that  evening  1  drove  out  six  miles  to  the 
Indian  school  in  a  fierce  wind-  and  rainstorm 
that  set  in  soon  after  the  dedication  ceremonies, 
on  my  way  over  the  Blue  mountains. 

A  night  in  the  wagon  without  fire  in  cold 
W(\ith(n'  and  with  scant  supper  was  enough  to 
cool  (me"s  ardor,  but,  when  the  next  morning  the 
information  was  given  out  that  eighteen  inches 
of  snow  had  fallen  on  the  mountains,  zero  was 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  113 

reached.  However,  with  the  morinng  sim  came 
a  wai'iu  reception  from  tli(^  autliorities  of  the 
school,  a  room  with  a  stove  in  it  allotted  us,  and 
a  command  to  help  ourselves  to  fuel. 

THE  BLUE  MOUNTAINS. 

Before  this  last  fall  of  snow  some  had  said  it 
would  be  imjxtssible  for  me  to  cross,  while  others 
said  it  could  be  done,  but  that  it  would  be  a 
"hard  job."  So  I  thought  best  to  go  myself,  in- 
A'estigate  on  the  spot,  and  not  "run  my  neck  into 
a  halter"  (whatever  that  may  mean)  for  lack  of 
knowing  at  first  hands.  So  that  evening 
^[eacham  was  reache<l  by  rail  and  I  was  dumi)ed 
otf  in  the  snow  near  midnight,  no  visible  light  in 
hotel  nor  track  beaten  to  it,  and  again  the  ardor 
was  cold — cool,  cooler,  cold. 

.Moi-ning  confirmed  the  story;  twenty  inclics 
of  snow  had  fallen,  but  was  settling  very  fast. 
A  sturdy  mountaineer,  and  one  of  bmg  experi- 
('ucc  and  an  owner  of  a  team,  in  i-esponse  to  my 
(piery  if  lie  eonld  hel|)  me  across  with  his  (earn 
said,  "Ves.  it's  possible  to  make  il,  but  \  warn 
you  il  's  a  liai'd  job,"  and  so  ( lie  arrangemeni  was 
at  once  iiiade  lluil  llic  second  nioniing  aflei'  oiii' 
meeting  his  learn  \\(»nld  iea\-e  .Meacliaiii  tui  llie 
wav  to  nu'ct  me. 


114:  THE   ox    TEAM    OR 

• 

"But  what  about  a  monument,  Mr.  Burns?"  I 
said.  "Meaoham  is  a  historic  place  with  Lee's 
encampment^  in  sight." 

"We  have  no  money,"  came  the  quick  reph', 
"l)ut  plenty  of  brawn,  ^^end  us  a  stone  and  I  '11 
warrant  you  the  foundation  will  be  built  and  the 
monument  put  in  place." 

A  belated  train  gave  opportunity  to  return  at 
once  to  Pendleton.  iVn  a])peal  for  aid  to  provide 
an  inscribed  stone  for  Meacham  was  responded 
to  with  alacrity,  the  stone  ordered,  and  a  sound 
night's  sleep  followed — ardor  rising. 

MEACHAM,  OREGON. 

1  quote  from  my  jonriial : 

"Camp  No.  3,  April  4  (1900).  We  are  now 
on  the  snow  line  of  tlie  Blue  mountains  ( S  :0() 
P.M.),  and  am  writing  this  by  our  first  real  out- 
of-door  cam])fire,  under  the  spreading  boughs  of 
a  friendly  pine  tree.  W^e  estimate  have  driven 
twelve  miles;  started  from  the  school  at  7:00 
(a.m.)  ;  the  first  three  or  four  miles  over  a  beau- 


^ Jason  Lee,  the  first  missionary  to  tiie  Oregon  country, 
with  four  assistants,  camped  here  in  September,  1834,  at, 
as  he  supposed,  the  summit  of  the  Blue  mountains,  and 
ever  after  the  little  opening  in  the  forests  of  the  moun- 
tains has  been  known  as  Lee's  encampment. 


THE   OJ.D   OKECON    TRAIL  115 

lit'ul  fanning  countr}',  and  tlieu  begau  climbiug 
the  foothills,  up,  up,  up,  four  miles  and  soon 
again  up,  reaching  the  first  snow  at  3 :00  o'clock. 
The  long  up-hill  pull  fagged  the  Dave  ox,  so  we 
had  to  wait  ou  him,  although  1  had  given  him  an 
inch  the  advantage  on. the  j^oke." 

True  to  i^romise,  the  team  met  us,  but  not  till 
^^•e  had  reached  the  snow,  axle  deep,  and  had  the 
sliovel  in  use  to  clear  the  way.  But  by  3:00  r.M, 
A\e  \\Qve  safely  encamped  at  Meacham,  with  the 
cheering  news  that  the  monument  had  arrived 
and  could  be  dedicated  the  next  da}',  and  so  the 
snowfall  had  proved  a  blessing  in  disguise,  as 
otherwise  there  would  not  have  been  a  monument 
l»i'(tvi(l<>d  for  ^leacham.     Ardor  warming. 

iJut  th(;  summit  had  not  been  reache<l.  The 
worst  tug  lay  ahead  of  us.  Casting  all  thoughts 
(•f  lliis  fi(»iii  iiiiiid,  all  hands  turned  their  atten- 
(ion  (o  iIk*  iiioiiument,  which  by  11:00  o'clock 
was  ill  ]>lac(',  Ihc  jcaiiis  liilclKMl  u]>,  standing  near 
il.  and  n-ady  for  (lie  slart  as  soon  as  the  order 
was  gi\('n.  Everybody  was  out,  the  little  school 
in  a  body,  a  neat  speech  was  made  by  the  orator 
IVoiii  Pcndlcion,  and  Oic  two  teams  to  the  one 
waizoii  iiio\cd  on  lo  I  lie  front  to  baltle  with  tin; 
snow.     Ami  il  wasabaHIc     W'c  read  of  (he  ^Masf 


1  1()  THE    OX    TEA^r    OR 

.straw  that  broke  the  cauicl's  back."  I  said,  after 
we  had  i^otteii  tliroii^iili,  "1  wonder  if  anotlier  tlake 
of  suow  woidd  liave  balked  ns?"  But  no  one 
ausWercHl,  and  1  took  it  for  granted  they  did  n't 
know.  And  so  we  went  into  camp  on  the  hither 
side  of  the  summit.     Ardor  A\armer. 

LA  GRAND,  OREGON. 

The  sunsliine  that  was  let  into  our  hearts  at 
La  Grand  (Oregon)  was  refreshing.  "Yes,  we 
will  have  a  monument,"  the  response  cahie,  and 
tliev  did,  too,  and  dedicated  it  while  I  tarried. 
Ardor  normal. 

LADD'S  CANYON. 

I  again  quote;  from  ujy  journal : 

"T'amp  No.  34,  April  11.  We  left  La  Grand 
at  7:30  (a.m.)  and  brought  an  inscribed  stone 
witli  us  to  set  up  at  iutersecticm  near  the  mcmtli 
of  Ladd's  canyon,  eight  miles  out  from  J^a  Grand. 
At  1:00  o'clock  the  school  near  by  came  in  a 
body,  and  several  residents  to  see  and  hear.  The 
children  sang  '(\)lum1)ia,  the  Geni  of  the  Ocean,' 
after  whicli  I  talked  to  Ihem  for  a  few  monumts, 
closing  by  all  singing  'America'  and  we  photo- 
graphed the  scene.     Each  child  brought  a  stone 


THE    OLD    OKKGON    TUAIL  1.17 

aud  cast  it  upon  the  pile  suiToiiudiug  the  base 
of  the  luouiimeut.*' 

CAMP  NO.  34. 

At  this  caiiij),  on  April  12,  the  Twist  ox  kick<'d 
me  and  almost  totally  disabled  my  riiiht  leg  for 
a  month  and  probably  has  resulted  in  permanent 
injury.  Much  had  to  be  left  undone  that  other- 
wise eould  have  been  accomplished,  but  I  am  re- 
joiced that  it  was  no  worse  and  thankful  to  the 
kind  friends  that  worked  so  ardently  to  accom- 
l)lish  what  has  been  done,  an  account  of  which 
follows. 

BAKER  CITY,  OREGON. 

The  citizens  of  IJaker  City  lent  a  willing  ear 
to  llie  suggestion  to  erect  a  monument  on  the 
high  school  ground  to  perjK'tuate  the  memory  of 
the  old  Trail  and  to  honor  the  pioneers  who  nuide 
it,  although  the  Trail  is  ojf  to  the  north  six  uiiles. 
A  tine  granite  shaft  was  |»r()\i(led  and  dedicatecl 
while  1  tarried,  ami  an  inscribed  stone  marker 
set  i)i  the  Trail.  Eight  hundred  school  children 
contribntcd  an  iiggregate  <»f  $(>0  to  pbiee  a  <liil- 
'li-en's  brMii/e  l;il»b'l  on  this  slial'l.  Tlif  money 
f'oi-   this    work    w;is    pineed    in    (lie   bunds   of    ilie 


THE  OLD  OUEGON  TRAIL  119 

school  directors.  Two  tlioiisaud  peopk;  purtici- 
patcd  ill  the  ceremoii^^  of  dedication  on  tlie  19th, 
aud  all  A\'ere  proud  of  the  work.  A  wave  of  gen- 
uine enthusiasm  prevailed,  and  man}'  of  the  au- 
dience lingered  long  after  the  exercises  were  over. 
A  photograph  of  the  Old  Timer  was  taken 
after  the  ceremonies  of  the  dedication,  and  many 
a  moistened  eye  attested  the  interest  taken  in  the 
impromptu  reunion. 

OLD  MOUNT  PLEASANT,  OREGON. 

Sixteen  miles  out  from  15aker  City  at  Straw 
Kanch,  set  an  inscribed  stone  at  an  important 
intersection.  At  Old  INIount  Pleasant  I  met  the 
owner  of  the  place  where  I  wanted  to  plant  the 
stone  (always,  though,  in  the  public  highway) 
and  asked  him  to  contribute,  but  he  refused  and 
trcaicd  me  with  scant  courtesy.  Thirteen  young 
men  and  oiu^  bidy,  hearing  of  the  occnrrence, 
contributed  the  cosi  of  Ihe  stone  and  |(l  extra. 
The  tent  was  filled  wiili  ])eople  till  9:00  o'cbxk 
at  night.  The  next  day,  while  planting  the  stone, 
five  young  lads  came  along,  stri])ped  off  their 
coats,  and  worke*]  wilh  carneslness  until  finished. 
r  nolc  Ibfsc  iii(i(b'nls  lo  sbow  (be  inlcrcsl  lakcn 
by   Ibc  people  ;il    birge,  of  all   classes. 


320  TIIK    OX    TEAM    OK 

DURKEE,  OREGON. 

The  pe(>i)k'  of  Durkee  had  "hcanl  what  was  <^o- 
ing  ou  down  tlie  Hue/'  and  said  they  were  ready 
to  provide  the  funds  for  a  monument.  One  was 
ordered  from  the  granite  worlvS  at  IJaker  City, 
and  in  due  time  was  dedicated,  but  unfortunately 
I  have  no  photograph  of  it.  The  stone  was 
planted  in  tlie  old  Trail  on  the  principal  street 
of  the  village. 

HUNTINGTON. 

Huntington  came  next  in  the  track  where  the 
Trail  ran,  and  herci  a  granite  monument  was 
erected  and  dedicated  while  I  tarried,  for  A\'liich 
the  citizens  willingly  contributed.  Here  seventy- 
six  school  children  contributed  their  dimes  and 
half  dimes,  aggregating  over  |4. 

After  the  ex])erience  in  Baker  City,  Oregon, 
where,  as  already  related,  800  children  contrib- 
uted and  at  Boise,  Idaho,  to  be  related  later,  over 
a  thousand  laid  down  their  offerings,  I  am  con- 
vinced this  feature  of  the  work  is  destined  to  give 
great  results.  It  is  not  the  financial  aid  I  refer 
to,  but  the  ett'ect  it  has  upon  children's  minds  to 
set  them  to  thinking  of  this  subject  that  has  here- 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  121 

toforc  laid  «loriiiant,  and  to  kindle  a  tlanic  of 
patriotic  scutinicnt  that  will  cudnre  iu  after  life. 
Each  elidd  iu  Baker  <Mty,  or  iu  Huutiugton,  or 
Boise,  or  other  places  where  these  eoutributious 
have  been  made,  feel  they  have  a  part  ownership 
iu  the  shaft  they  helix'd  to  ])ay  for,  and  a  tender 
care  for  it  that  w  ill  grow  stronger  as  the  child 
gro^^■s  older. 

VALE,  OREGON. 

It  was  not  a  (piestiou  at  Vale,  Oregon,  as  to 
whether  they  Axonld  erect  a  nionuiuent,  but  as 
to  what  kind,  that  is,  what  kind  of  stone.  Local 
pride  jn'cvailed,  and  a  shaft  was  erected  out  of 
local  niatciial  which  was  not  so  suitable  as  grau- 
it(\  but  the  spirit  of  the  ])eople  was  manifested. 
Exa«tly  seventy  school  children  contributed  to 
the  fund  foi-  erecting  this  UKUiument,  which  was 
l»hice<l  on  the  conrt  liouse  gr(>uu(ls,  au<l  i>arlici- 
pated  in  the  exercises  of  dedicaliou  on  April 
30. 


THE    ox    TEAM    OK 


CHAI»TMR  XIV 


The  Ux  Team  Monument  Expedition 
Continued. 

OLD  FORT  BOISE. 

THIS  tiuisliod  the  work  in  Oregon,  as  we  soou 
crossed  Snake  river  jnst  below  the  mouth  of 
Boise  and  were. landed  on  the  historic  spot  of  the 
old  Fort  I>oise,  established  by  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company  in  September,  1831.  Tliis  fort  was  es- 
tablished for  the  purpose  of  preventing  the  suc- 
cess of  the  American  venture  at  Fort  Hull,  a  post 
establislied  earlier  in  1834  by  Nathaniel  J. 
Wythe.  Wythe's  venture  proved  disastrous,  and 
the  fort  soon  pass(?d  into  his  rival's  hands,  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company,  thus  for  the  time  being- 
securing  undisputed  liritish  rule  for  the  whole 
of  that  vast  region  known  as  the  Inland  Empire. 
Some  relics  of  the  old  fort  at  Boise  were  se- 
cured, arrangements  made  for  planting  a  double 
inscribed  stone  to  mark  the  site  of  the  fort  and 
the  Trail,  and  afterwards,  through  the  liberality 
of  the  citizens  of  Boise  City,  a  stone  was  shipped 
and  d(tiil>tless  before  ihis  i>ut  in  place. 


THE   OLD   OKE(U)N    TRAIL  123 

PARMA,   IDAHO. 

The  first  town  eucouutered  iu  Idaho  was 
Parma,  where  the  contributions  warranted  ship- 
]>ing  an  inscribed  stone  from  Boise  City,  which 
was  done,  and  is  donbth^ss  ere  this  in  place,  but 
no  ]>li<»t(),'ira}»li  of  it  is  at  hand. 

BOISE,  IDAHO. 

At  JJoise,  the  capital  city  of  IcUdio,  there;  were 
nearly  1,200  c()ntrll)utions  to  the  monument  fund 
by  the  pupils  of  the  imblic  schools,  each  child 
sij;iiing  his  or  her  name  to  the  roll,  showinji,'  the 
school  and  i»rade  to  which  the  child  belon.iicd. 
Th(^se  rolls  with  printed  headings  were  collected, 
itoiiiid  (oLiclhei',  and  deposited  willi  the  archives 
of  (he  i*i(»neer  Society  historical  collect  ion  for 
future  reference  and  as  a  ]>art  of  the  history  of 
the  uionunient.  Mach  cliild  was  iiiven  a  signed 
certiticate  showing  the  amount  of  the  conti'ibu- 
tiou.  The  uu)nuuu>nt  stands  on  the  state  house 
gi'ouixls  and  is  inscribed  as  the  children's  otfei'- 
in^  (o  ilie  iiieniory  of  the  ]>ioneers.  Near  lhi*ee 
thousand  people  at  tended  tlie  dedicaticui  sei-\  ice, 
the  ]u-oij,)-ani  of  which  is  here  giv<'n  in  full  to 
show  tiie  s|iii-i1  |tre\;iiling  and  lo  illustrate  the 
y.eal  nianiresled  in  many  oilier  places: 


124  •  THE  OX  tea:m  or 

PROGRAM    PIONEER   MONUMENT   DEDICATION. 


Capitol   Grounds,  Boise,  Idaho,  Wednesday,  may  9,  1906. 

major  j.  a.  pimney,  presiding. 

Song    "Idaho" 

By  the  School  Children. 

A  lovely  mountain  home  is  ours, 

Idaho,   O,  Idaho! 
Of  winters  mild  and  springtime  showers, 

Idaho.  O,  Idaho! 
Her  breezes  blow  from  western  shore; 
Where  broad  Pacific's  billows  roar; 
Each  year  we  love  her  more  and  more, 

Idaho,   O,  Idaho! 

Her  mountains  grand  are  crowned  with  snow, 

Idaho,   O,  Idaho! 
And  valleys  fertile  spread  below, 

Idaho,  O,  Idaho! 
The  towering  pines  on  cliffs  so  steep. 
O'er  cataracts  their  vigils  keep. 
Or  in  the  lakes  are  mirrored  deep, 

Idaho,  O,  Idaho! 

A  thousand  hills  where  herds  may  range, 

Idaho,  O,  Idaho! 
And  lava  beds  so  weird  and  strange, 

Idaho,   O,  Idaho! 
Above  our  heads  are  cloudless  skies. 
In  gorgeous  hues  the  sunset  dies. 
The  starry  diamonds  greet  the  eyes, 

Idaho,  O,  Idaho! 

Such  is  our  wondrous  mountain  home, 

Idaho,   O,  Idaho! 
And  far  away  we  ne'er  would  roam, 

Idaho,   O,  Idaho! 
Oh  "Land  of  Liberty,"  we  tell, 
Beneath  a  starry  flag  we  dwell; 
One  star  is  ours,  we  love  it  well, 

Idaho.  O.  Idaho! 


THE   OLD   ()UE(JOX    TRAIL  125 

Invocation    By   Dean    Hinks 

Address  By  F.  R.  Coffin 

Unveiling    Monument    

Esther  Gregory,   Louise   Morrison,  Edna  Perrault, 
and  Elizabeth   Hays. 

Song  "Star  Spangled  Banner" 

By   male   quartet,   composed   of   P.   E.   Tate,   C.   R.   Davis, 

L.  W.  Thrailkill,  and  M.  R.  McFerrin. 
Presentation  on  behalf  of  the  school,  Prof.  J.  E.  Williamson 

Address    By  Ezra  Meeker 

The  "Trail   Marker,"  of  Puyallup,   Wash. 

Hymn    "America" 

By  the  Audience. 

My  country,  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty, — 

Of  thee  I  sing: 
Land  where  my  fathers  died,  ♦ 

Land  of  the  pilgrims'  pride, 
From  everj'  mountain   side 

Let  freedom  ring  I 

My  native  country,  thee, — 
Land  of  the  noble,  free, — 

Thy  name  I  love: 
I  love  thy  rocks  and  rills. 
Thy  woods  and  templed  hills; 
My  heart  with  rapture  thrills 

Like  that  above. 

Our  fathers'  God,  to  thee, 
Author  of  liberty, — 

To  thf-e  we  sing: 
Long  may  (jur  land   b(>  bright 
With   fi-cedom's   holy   light; 
Protect  us   hy  thy   might, 

Great  God,  our  King. 


12(3  THE   OX   TEAM    OR 

The  citizens  of  Boise  also  paid  for  tlie  stone 
planted  on  the  site  of  the  old  fort  and  also  for 
one  planted  on  the  Trail,  near  the  South  Boise 
school  buildini^'s,  all  of  which  were  native  granite 
shafts  of  which  there  is  a  large  supply  yvij  suit- 
able for  such  work. 

TWIN  FALLS,   IDAHO. 

At  Twin  Falls,  537  miles  out  from  The  Dalles, 
funds  were  contributed  to  place  an  inscribed 
stone  in  the  track  of  the  old  Trail  a  mile  from 
the  city,  and  a  granite  shaft  was  accordingly 
ordered. 

AMERICAN  FALLS,  IDAHO. 

l^pou  my  arrival  at  American  Falls,  Idaho, 
049  miles  out  from  The  Dalles,  a  condjiuation 
was  quickly  formed  to  erect  a  cement  shaft 
twelve  feet  high  to  plant  in  the  track  of  the  Trail, 
and  a  park  was  to  be  dedicated  wliere  the  monu- 
ment is  to  T^itand  and  a  section  of  liie  old  Trail 
preserved. 

POCATELLO,  IDAHO. 

The  ladies'  study  club  has  undertaken  the 
work  to  erc^ct  a  monument  at  Pocatello,  Idaho, 
07(>  mih^s  out  from  The  Dalles.     1  made  twenty- 


THE   OI.D   OKEGON    TRAIL  127 

three  addresses  to  the  school  cliildren  on  behalf 
of  the  work  before  leaving,  and  have  the  satis- 
faction of  knowini;-  the  undertaking  has  been 
vigorously  proseeuled,  and  that  a  fine  nionuinent 
will  soon  be  in  ])lace  on  the  high  school  grounds. 

SODA  SPRINGS,  IDAHO. 

At  KSoda  vSprings,  739  miles  from  The  Dalles, 
the  next  place  wliere  an  attempt  was  made  to 
erect  a  monument,  a  committee  of  citizens  under- 
took the  work,  collected  the  funds  to  erect  a  mon- 
ument by  one  of  those  beautiful  bubbling  soda 
s]H'ings,  wliich  is  in  tin;  park  and  on  the  Trail. 

MONTPELIER,  IDAHO. 

Montpelier  prov(Ml  no  exception  to  what  ap- 
])ar('ntly  had  become  the  rule.  A  committee  of 
tbrcc  was  appointed  by  tlie  commercial  club  to 
lake  cliarge  of  the  work  of  erecting  a  monument, 
'A  contribution  from  members  and  citizens  so- 
licited, nearly  |30  collected  ^and  paid  into  the 
bank,  and  arrangements  made  for  increasing  the 
conlribntions  and  coniineting  tbe  monnment 
were  made  before  tlie  team  arrive*!. 

A  y)leasant  feature  of  the  occasion  was  tlie  call- 
ing  of  a    meeting   of   llie    woman's   cinb   al    llie 


128  THE    OX   TEAM   OK 

Hiiiit(T  hotel,  where  I  Avas  stopping,  and  a  reso- 
lution j)asse(l  to  thoroughly  canvass  the  town  for 
aid  in  the  work,  and  to  interest  the  school 
children. 

THE  MAD  BULL. 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

''June  7,  up  at  4  :30 ;  started  at  5  :30 ;  arrived 
at  Montpelier  11:00  a.m.  ...  A  dangerous 
and  exciting  incident  occurred  this  forenoon 
when  a  vicious  bull  attacked  the  team,  first  from 
one  side  and  then  the  other,  getting  in  between 
the  oxen  and  causing  them  to  nearly  upset  the 
wagcm.  I  Axas  finall}'  thrown  down  in  the  melee, 
but  escaped  unharmed,"  and  it  was  a  narrow 
escape  from  being  run  over  by  l)oth  team  and 
Avagon. 

THE  WOUNDED  BUFFALO.  ^  . 

This  incident  reminded  me  of  a  "scrap(^"  one 
of  our  neighboring  trains  got  into  on  the  Platte 
in  1852  Avith  a  Avoun«led  buifalo.  The  train  had 
enc(Mintered  a  large  lici-d  feeding  and  traveling 
at  right  anglers  to  tlie  road.  The  older  heads  of 
tli(^  party,  fearing  a  stam])ede  of  their  teams,  had 
given  orders  not  to  molest  tlu^  buffaloes,  but  to 
give  their  Avht/le  attention  to  carc^  of  the  teams. 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL         129 

But  Olio  impulsive  young  follow  would  uot  be 
restrained  and  fired  into  the  herd  and  wounded 
a  large  bull.  Either  in  anger  or  from  confusion 
the  mad  bull  charged  upon  a  wagon  filled  with 
women  and  children  and  drawn  by  a  team  of 
iinilos.  He  became  entangled  in  the  harness  and 
on  the  tongue  between  the  mules.  An  eye-witness 
described  the  scene  as  "exciting  for  awhile."  It 
woubl  bo  natural  for  the  women  to  scream,  the 
chibirou  to  cry,  and  the  men  to  halloa,  but  the 
practical  (luostion  was  how  to  dispatch  the  bull 
witlwrnt  shooting  the  mules  as  well,  ^^'hat  with 
multii>licity  of  counsel,  tlio  independent  action 
of  every  ones  each  having  a  plan  of  liis  own,  there 
soomod  certain  to  be  some  fatalities  from  the  gun- 
sliots  of  the  largo  crowd  of  trainmen  who  had 
forgotten  tlioir  own  teams  and  rushed  to  the 
wagon  in  li'oubh'.  As  in  tliis  incident  of  my  own, 
jnst  i-clated.  notliing  was  harmed  and  no  one  was 
hni-1,  bnt  wlicii  il  was  over  all  agreed  it  was  past 
uiKb'i-standing  bow  il  came  about  there  was  no 
loss  of  life  or  bodily  injury. 

COKEVILLE,  WYOMING. 

Cokeville,  SO(M  I    miles  out    on   Hie  Trail    from 
The  Dalles,  and   near  I  he  junction  of  the  Sublet 


130  THE   OX    TEAM    OR 

cut-off  with  the  more  southerly  trail,  resolved  to 
have  a  uionumeut,  and  arrangements  were  com- 
pleted for  erecting  one  of  stone  from  a  nearby 
quarry  that  will  bear  ^^■ituess  for  many  centuries. 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  131 


CHAPTER  XV. 

.  The  Ox  Team  Monument  Expedition 
Continued. 

THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

FKO.M  Coki'ville  to  racitic  Springs,  just  west 
of  the  suiiuiiit  of  the  Koekj'  iiioimtaiDS  at 
Hoiith  Pass,  hv  tlic  road  and  trail  we  traveled,  is 
158  mih'S.  Ninety  miles  of  this  stretch  is  away 
from  the  sound  of  the  locomotive,  the  click  of 
the  telegra})!!,  or  the  hello  girl.  It  is  a  great  ex- 
tension of  that  grand  mountain  range,  the  Rock- 
ies, from  six  to  seven  thousand  feet  above  sea 
hivel,  with  scant  vegetable  growth,  and  almost  a 
solitude  as  to  habitation,  save  here  and  there  a 
sheep-herder  or  his  typical  wagon  might  be  dis- 
covered. TIkj  bold  coyote,  tlu^  simjde  antelope, 
and  the  cunning  sage  hen  still  hold  their  sway 
as  they  did  fifty-four  j'^ears  ago,  when  I  first  trav- 
ersed the  country.  The  old  Trail  is  tliere  in  all 
its  grandeur. 

"Why  mark  that  Trail?"  T  exclaim.  Miles  and 
miles  of  il  N\'oni  so  deep  (lial  eeiil  iiries  of  slonn 
will  ii(»l  eri'ace  it;  general  ictus  inay  jkiss  and  llie 


132 


THE    OX    TEAM    OR 


origin  of  the  Trail  become  a  legend,  but  the 
marks  will  be  there  to  perplex  the  wondering 
eyes  of  those  ^\'ho  people  the  continent  ten  cen- 
turies hence,  ay,  a  hundred  centuries,  I  am  ready 
to  sav.    We  wonder  to  see  it  worn  fifty  feet  wide 


THE   OLD   OKKGOX   TRAIL. 


and  tliree  feet  deep  and  hasten  to  take  snap 
shots  at  it  with  kodak  and  camera.  But  what 
about  it  later,  after  we  are  over  the  crest  of  the 
mountain?  We  see  it  a  hundred  feet  wide  and 
fifteen  feet  deep,  wlicre  the  tramp  of  tliousands 


TIIK   Or.n   OHKOON    TRAir.  loo 

upon  thousands  and  the  hoofs  of  millions  of  ani- 
mals and  the  wheels  of  untold  nund>ers  of  ve- 
\nrWs  has  loosened  the  soil  and  the  fierce  winds 
have  carried  it  away,  and  finally  we  find  ruts  a 
foot  dc'C])  worn  into  the  solid  rock.  "What  a 
miiihiv    moveuKnt,    this    over    the    old    Oregon 


l;(l(■|\^    Mill  N  IAIN  s(i;m:uv. 

Trail,"  we  cxclaiui  lime  and  agaiu,  each  time 
wilii  gi'calcr  womh'i-mcul  al  I  he  iiiai'vcls  \{'\  lo 
he  seen,  aiMl  hear  the  slorics  of  the  few  \*'\  h'fl 
of  lliosc  who  saw,  tell,  ami   iK-ai-tl. 

\(M-   do    wi'   cscajx'    li-oiii    this    solitude   <ii"    iIh' 
wcslci'i!  sl«»|ic  lili  we  have  !ra\('l('(l  !.")()  miles  cast, 


134  THE   ox   TEAM    OR 

from  the  summit,  when  the  welcome  black  smok© 
of  the  locomotive  is  seen  in  the  distance,  at  Cas- 
per, a  stretch  of  250  miles  of  primitive  life  of  ye 
olden  times  of  fifty  years  ago. 

Nature's  freaks  in  the  Kocky  mountains  are 
beyond  my  power  of  description.  We  catch  sight 
of  one  a  few  miles -west  of  the  Little  Sandy  (see 
illustration)  without  name.  We  venture  to  call 
it  Tortoise  Rock,  from  the  resemblance  to  that 
animal,  ^^•ith  head  erect  and  extended,  as  seen  in 
the  illustration.  Farther  on,  as  night  approaches, 
we  are  in  the  presence  of  animals  unused  to  the 
sight  of  man.     1  quote  from  my  journal: 

PACIFIC  SPRINGS. 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

"Paciflo  Springs,  ^Vyoming,  Camp  No.  79, 
June  20,  1000,  odometer  958  (miles  from  The 
Dalles,  Oregon.)  Arrived  at  6:00  p.m.  and 
camped  near  Halter's  store  and  the  P.  O.;  ice 
formed  in  camp  during  the  night.     .     .     . 

"Camp  No.  79,  June  21.  Remained  in  camp 
all  day  and  got  down  to  solid  work  on  my  new 
book,  the  title  of  wh'u-h  is  not  yet  developed  in 
my  mind. 


^HE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  135 

•'Camp  No.  79,  June  22.  Eemained  in  camp 
all  day  at  Pacific  Springs  and  searched  for  a 
suitable  stone  for  a  monument  to  be  placed  at 
the  summit.  After  almost  despairing,  I  sud- 
denly came  to  exactly  what  was  Avanted,  and  al- 
though alone  on  the  mountain  side,  exclaimed, 
'That  is  what  I  want;  that's  it.'  So,  a  little 
later,  after  procuring  help,  we  turned  it  over  to 
find  that  both  sides  Avere  fiat ;  with  20  inches  face 
and  15  inches  thick  at  one  end  and  14  wide  and 
12  thick  at  the  other,  one  of  Nature's  own  handi- 
work, as  if  made  for  this  very  purpose,  to  stand 
on  the  top  of  the  mountains  for  the  centuries  to 
come  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  genera- 
tions that  have  passed.  I  think  it  is  granite 
formation,  but  is  mixed  with  (juartz  at  large  end 
and  very  hard.  Keplaced  thrc^e  shoes  on  the 
Twist  ox  and  one  on  Dav(;  immediately  after 
(liniicr  and  liitched  the  oxen  to  Mr.  Halter's 
wagon,  and  with  the;  help  <>f  fo^i*  "'^'^i  1<JJ»'1<''1  ^l'^' 
stone,  after  having  dragged  it  on  the  ground  and 
rocks  a  hundred  yards  or  so  down  the  mountain 
side;  estimated  weight,  1,000  pounds. 

"('amp  No.  71),  June  2.'{.  Kciiiaincd  h«'re  in 
cjiiiip  whib*  insci-ibiiig  Ibc  iiMdiiiiiicnt.  There  b<;- 
illg    IK)   stone    culler    liel-e,    Hie   elei-k    of    Ihe    storC 


130 


THE    OX    TEAM   OR 


formed  tlie  letters  on  stiff  pasteboards  and  then 
cut  out  to  make  a  paper  stencil,  after  which  the 
shape  of  the  letters  was  transferred  to  the  stone 
by  crayon  marks.  The  letters  were  then  cut  with 
the  cold  chisel  deep  enough  to  make  a  permanent 
inscription.  The  stone  is  so  yhvj  hard  that  it 
required  steady  work  all  day  to  cut  the  twenty 


MOXT'MKXT    AT     SOTTII     I'ASS:     SIM.MIT     ( »F     TIIK     IIOCKY 

MorxTArxs. 

letters    and    houses,    'The    Obi    ()rcg(ui    Trail, 
1843-57.' 

SOUTH  PASS  MONUMENT, 
''("amp  SO,  .June  24,  oib.mctcr  DTOi/'.     At  3:00 
o'clock  Ibis  aflcruoon  creeled  ibe  mouumeut  do- 


THE  OLD  OKEGOX  TRAIL  137 

scrilxMl  on  i^revioiis  page  ou  tlu;  suniiuit  of  the 
Eolith  Pass  at  a  point  ou  the  Trail  de.scribed  by 
John  Linn,  civil  engineer,  as  42.21  north  latitude, 
108.53  west  longitude,  bearing  N.  47,  E.  240,  feet 
from  the  14  corner  between  sections  4  and  5,  T. 
27  y.,  li.  101  W.  of  the  0th  1'.  M.  Elevation  as 
determined  by  aneroid  reading  June  24,  1000,  is 
7450. 

"Mr.  Linn  informs  me  the  survey  for  an  irri- 
gation ditch  to  take  the  waters  of  the  Sweetwater 
river  from  the  east  sh)pe  of  tlu'  range,  through 
tlie  South  Pass,  to  the  west  side,  runs  williiu  a 
hundred  feet  of  the  monunumt." 

••W'c  drove  out  of  Pacific  Springs  at  12:30, 
stopped  at  the  suuniiit  to  dedicate  tlie  mouunuMit 
(see  illustration  I,  and  at  3:40  left  the  summit 
and  drove  twelve  miles  to  this  point,  called  Ore- 
gon Slough,  and  put  up  the  tent  after  dark." 

'\']\c  i-<';(<l('r  niiiy  lliiid;  of  llie  South  Pass  of  the 
lioiky  UKtuntains  as  ;i  preciiulous  detile  through 
nari-o\v  canyons  and  deep  gorges,  but  nothing  is 
fai-tjicr  fi-oiii  the  lacls  than  such  iuiagiiKMl  c(uidi- 
tions.  ()nc  can  drlNc  through  this  |>ass  for  sev- 
eral miles  without  i-caiiziiig  he  lias  ]>assed  the 
dividing  line  lietwceii  the  waters  of  the  Pacific 
on  the  one  side  and  •»('  the  (lull'  of  .Me\ic(»  on  the 


138  THE    OX   TEAM   OR 

other,  while  traveling  over  a  broad,  oj)en,  undu- 
lating prairie  the  approach  to  which  is  by  easy 
grades  and  the  descent  (going  east)  scarcely 
noticeable. 

Certainly,  if  my  memory  is  worth  anything,  in 
1852,  some  of  our  party  left  the  road  but  a  short 
distance  to  find  banks  of  drifted  snow  in  low 
places  in  July,  but  none  was  in  sight  on  the  level 
of  the  road  as  we  came  along  in  June  of  1906. 
This  was  one  of  the  landmarks  that  looked  fa- 
miliar, as  all  who  were  toiling  west  looked  upon 
this  spot  as  the  turning  point  in  their  journey, 
and  that  the^^  had  left  tlie  worst  of  the  trip  be- 
liind  them, — poor,  innocent  souls  as  we  were, 
not  realizing  that  our  mountain  climbing  in  the 
Avay  of  rough  roads  only  began  a  long  way  out 
west  of  the  summit  of  the  Rockies, 


THE   OliU   OUEGON    TKAIL  139 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Ox  Teai^i  Monument  Expedition 
Continued. 

SWEETWATER. 

Til  J']  ^>;i.l•ht  of  t^^^■eetwat('L•  river,  twenty  miles 
(Hit  from  tiie  Pass,  revived  many  pleasant 
tiiciiiories  and  soiiu;  sad.  I  could  remember  the 
sparkling,  clear  water,  the  green  skirt  of  under- 
growth along  the  banks  and  the  restful  camps  as 
we  ti'U(1g(d  ab)ng  up  the  stream  so  many  years 
ago.  And  now  1  see  the  same  channel,  the  same 
Iiills,  and  a])])arently  the  same  waters  swiftly 
j>assing;  but  where  are  the  campfires;  where  the 
herds  of  gaunt  catth';  where  the  sound  of  the  din 
(»r  liclls;  tlic  lialloNving  for  lost  children;  the 
nirsiiig  of  iralc  ox  drivers;  the  ])leadiiig  for 
iiiei'cv  from  some  humane  dame  for  (he  lialf-fam- 
ished  (liiiiib  brute;  the  harsh  souiuls  from  some 
violin  in  cam]);  ihe  merry  shout  of  thoughtless 
(liiblr<'n  ;  or  Hk  Utile  groui)S  off  on  th(i  hillside  to 
liui'v  th(!  dead?  All  gone.  An  o])pressive  silence 
|>re\;iiled  as  we  drove  down  to  the  riv^er  and 
l»i(che<!  ("imp  wiMiin  a  few   feel  of  Ihe  bank  \\lier(i 


140  THE    OX   TEAM    OR 

we  coiiM  licar  the  ri]»]»liiii!,'  waters  ])assiii<'  and  see 
the  tlsli  leapiiii;-  in  the  eddies.  We  had  onr  elioiee 
of  a  eanipino-  place  just  by  the  skirt  of  refreshinj.;' 
greeu  bi-nsh  with  an  opening  to  give  full  vk'W  of 
tlie  river.  Not  s(>  in  '52  with  hundreds  of  eanips 
ahead  of  yon.  One  ninst  take  what  he  eonUT  get, 
and  that  in  many  eases  would  he  far  back  from 
the  water  and  removed  from  other  conveniences. 
The  sight  and  smell  of  the  carrion  so  common 
in  cani])ing  places  in  our  first  trip  was  gone;  no 
bleaclKMl  l>ones  (wen  sliowed  where  the  exhausted 
dundt  brute  liad  died ;  the  graves  of  the  dead  emi- 
grants had  all  been  leveled  by  the  hoofs  of  stock 
and  the  lai)se  of  time.  '^AVhat  a  mighty  change !" 
I  exclaimed.  AA'e  liad  l)een  following  the  old  Trail 
for  nearly  150  miles  on  the  west  slope  of  the 
mountains  with  scai'ce  a  vestige  of  civilization. 
Out  of  sight  and  hearing  of  railroads,  telegraphs, 
or  telephones  and  nearly  a  hundred  miles  with- 
out a  ])ostoflfice.  Tt  is  a  misnomer  to  call  it  a 
"slope."  It  is  n(^arly  as  high  an  altitude  a  hun- 
dred miles  west  of  the  summit  as  the  summit  it- 
self. The  country  remains  as  it  was  fifty-four 
years  b(^fore.  The  Trail  is  there  to  be  seen  miles 
and  miles  ahead,  worn  bare  and  deep,  with  but 
one  narrow  track  where  there  used  to  be  a  dozen. 


Tin;    ()LI>    OUKCOX    TRAIL  141 

and  with  the  beaten  ]>alli  so  solid  that  vegetation 
has  not  vet  reeoNcred  from  the  scourge  of  pass- 
ing Iioofs  and  tires  of  wagon  vears  ago. 

Like  as  in  1851*  wlien  the  summit  was  passed  I 
felt  that  my  task  was  mueh  more  than  half  done, 
though  the  distanee  was  scarcely  half  compassed. 
I  felt  we  Avere  entitled  to  a  rest  even  though  it 
was  a  solitude,  and  so  our  preparations  were 
nmde  for  two  days'  rest  if  not  recreation.  The 
two  days  passed  and  we  saw  but  three  persons. 
We  traveled  a  week  on  tliis  stretch,  to  encounter 
five  ])ersons  only,  and  to  see  hut  one  wagon,  but 
our  guide  to  point  ilie  way  was  at  hand  all  the 
lime — a  pioneer  way  a  hundred  feet  wide  and  in 
])bices  ten  feet  deep,  we  could  not  mistake.  Our 
way  from  this  Camj)  No.  SI  on  Sweetwater  led 
us  from  the  river  and  over  hills  for  fifty  miles 
before  we  were  back  to  the  river  again.  Not  so 
my  Ti-ail  of  'r)2,  for  then  we  followed  the  river 
closer  and  crossed  it  several  times,  while  ]>art  of 
the  ]>eople  Avent  over  the  hills  and  made  the  se<-- 
(»nd  I  rail.  II  was  on  this  last  stretch  we  set  onr 
1.(MK»  mile  post  as  we  reaehcd  iieai'ly  the  snmmit 
of  a  Vi'vy  long  hill,  eighteen  miles  w<'st  of  where 
we  again  eii'onnlei-ed  the  river,  saw  a  telegraph 
line,  and  a    i<tad    wlierc   more  lliaii   <»ne  \\ag(»n  a 


142  THK   OX   TEAM    OR 

week  passed  as  like  that  we  had  beeu  following 
so  long. 

SPLIT  ROCK. 

I  quote  fi'oni  my  journal : 

"Camp  No.  85,  June  30,  odometer  1,044. 

"About  10 :00  o'clock  encountered  a  large  num- 
ber of  big  flies  that  ran  the  cattle  nearly  wild. 
^YQ  fought  them  oif  as  best  we  could.  I  stood  on 
the  A\  agon  tongue  for  miles  so  I  could  reach  them 
^^•itll  tlie  whip  stock.  The  cattle  were  so  excited, 
we  did  not  stop  at  noon,  finding  water  on  the 
way,  but  drove  on  through  by  2  :30  and  camped 
for  the  day  at  a  farm  house,  the  Split  Rock  post- 
office,  the  first  we  had  found  since  leaving  Pacific 
S])riugs,  the  otlier  side  the  summit  of  South  Pass 
and  eighty-five  u)iles  distant." 

"Split  Rock"'  postofflce  derives  its  name  from 
a  rift  in  the  mountain  a  thousand  feet  or  more 
liigh,  as  though  a  part"  of  the  range  had  been 
])odily  moved  a  rod  or  so,  leaving  this  perpen- 
dicular chasm  through  the  range,  which  was  nar- 
row. This  is  the  first  farmhouse  we  have  seen, 
and  near  by  the  first  attempt  at  farming  this  side 
(east)  of  the  Rocky  mountains. 


THE  OLD  OKEGUN  TUAIL  143 


CHAPTER  XYII. 

The  Ox  Team  Monument  Expedition 
Continued. 

THE  DEVIL'S  GATE. 

THE  DcviTs  (5at('  (see  ilhistratioii,  pai>('  144) 
aiid  iiulep{'ii(l(»iRe  Kock  a  few  iiiilcs  dis- 
taut  are  probably  the  two  best  known  laudniarks 
on  the  Trail, — the  one  for  its  grotesqne  and  strik- 
inj^  scenic  eliect.     Here,  as  at  Split  Rock,  the 
mountain  seems  as  if  it  had  been  split  apart,  leav- 
inj;  an  opening  a  few  rods  Avide  and  nearly  five 
hundred  feet  high,  through  wbicli  the  Sweetwater 
river  jtonrs  as  a  veritable  torrent.    The  river  first 
ai>|>r<>arli('s  lo  witliin  a  few  hundred  feet  of  the 
ga]),  <in<l  I  hen  suddenly  curves  away  from  it,  and 
alter  winding  tlii-ougli  the  valley  for  halt'  a  mih^ 
or  so,   a   (piarter  of  a   mile  distant,   it   takes  a 
straight  shoot  and  makes  the  i)luuge  tlirough  the 
cauyon.    Those  wlio  have  had  the  impressicm  they 
(\\>>\r   Iheir   teams  tlirongli    this   gap  are  sim])ly 
mistaken.  Ut\-  it  "s  a  leal  no  mortal  man  has  (hme 
oi-  can  do.  no  more  than  the\-  coidd  drive  up  the 
falls  of  the  Niagara. 
10 


DEVIL'S  GATE. 


THE    OT,I)   OREGON    TRAIL  145 

This  3'ear,  on  my  190G  trip  1  did  (•laiid)er 
tlirouj^Ii  on  the  left  bank,  over  bonlders  head  high, 
under  slielving  rooks  where  the  sparrows'  nests 
were  in  full  possession,  and  ate  some  ripe  wild 
.i'oos(4)erries  from  the  liushes  growing  on  the  bor- 
der of  the  river,  and  plucked  some  beautiful  wild 
roses,  this  on  the  2d  day  of  July,  A.D.  1906.  I 
wonder  why  those  wild  ros(\s  grow  there  Avhere 
nobody  will  see  them?  Wh}"  thes(^  sparrows' 
nests?  Why  did  this  river  go  througli  this  gorges 
instead  of  bi'caking  tlie  l)jn'rier  a  little  to  the 
soutli  where  the  easy  road  runs?  These  (pies- 
tions  run  through  my  mind,  and  why  I  kiu)W  not. 
The  gap  tlirough  the  mountains  looked  familiar 
as  I  s])ied  it  from  the  distance,  l)ul  tlie  road-bed 
t<»  the  right  I  had  forgotten.  T  longed  to  see  this 
place,  for  here,  somewhere  under  the  sands,  lies 
all  that  was  mortal  of  a  br(>ther,  Tlark  Sleeker, 
drowned  in  the  Sweetwatei-  in  1S,")4  while  at- 
tempting to  cross  the  Plains;  would  1  be  able  to 
see  and  identify  the  grave?     No. 

I  <|iiot('  Iroiii  my   journal  : 

"C'am|»  \o.  sc,  .Inly  2,  odomet<'r  l/J.'iO.  This 
cam])  is  at  'i'oni  Sun's  ])lace,  tlie  Snu  postolVice, 
A\  yoniing,  and  is  in  S.  .'{5,  T.  20  N.,  K.  ST,  «;  I».  :\I. 
and    il    i^  onc-lialf  mile  lo   tli*'  u]>|»('r  end  of  tiic 


146  THE   OX    TEAM    OR 

Devil's  Gate  (see  illustration,  page  144),  through 
Avhieh  the  Sweetwater  ruus.  The  passage  is  not 
more  than  100  feet  wide  and  is  1,300  feet  through 
with  walls  483  feet  at  highest  point.  The  altitude 
is  5,800.27,  according  to  the  United  States  geo- 
logical survey  marks.  It  is  one  of  nature's  mar- 
vels, this  rift  in  the  mountain  to  let  the  waters  of 
the  .  Sweetwater  through.  Mr.  Tom  Sun,  or 
Thompson,  has  lived  here  thirty-odd  years  and 
says  there  are  numerous  graves  of  the  dead  pio- 
neers, but  all  have  been  leveled  by  the  tramp  of 
stock,  225,000  of  cattle  alone  having  passed  over 
the  Trail  in  1882  and  in  some  single  years  over 
half  a  million  sheep.  But  the  Trail  is  deserted 
now,-'  and  scarcely  live  wagons  pass  in  a  week 
with  part  of  th(»  road-bed  grown  up  in  grass. 
That  mighty  movement,  tide  shall  we  call  it,  of 
sulfering  humanity  first  going  west,  accom- 
panied and  afterwards  followe<l  by  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  stock,  with  the  mightier 
ebb  of  millions  u])on  millions  of  returning  cattle 
and  sheep  going  east,  has  all  ceased,  and  noAV 
the  road  is  a  solitude  save  a  few  struggling  wag- 
ons, or  here  and  there  a  local  Hock  driven  to  pas- 
ture. Small  wonder  Ave  look  in  vain  for  the 
graves  of  the  dead  with  this  great  throng  passing 
and  repassing. 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  147 

A  pleasant  littJc  anecdote  is  told  by  liis  neigh- 
bors of  the  odd  name  of  '^Toni  ^\m"  borne  by 
that  shirdy  yeoman  (a  Swede,  I  think)  whose 
fame  for  fair  dealing  and  liberality  I  eonld  hear 
of  npon  all  sides.  The  story  rnns  that  when  he 
tirst  went  to  the  bank,  then  and  noAV  sixty  miles 
away  to  deposit,  the  cashier  asked  his  name  and 
i'eceiv(Hl  the  reply  Thompson,  emphasizing  the 
hist  syllal)le  pronounced  with  so  much  emphasis, 
that  it  Mas  written  Tom  Snn  and  from  necessity 
a  check  had  to  be  so  signed.  The  name  became 
generally  known  as  sncli  and  finally  a  postoffice 
was  named  after  it. 


148  THE    OX    TEAA[    OR 


CHAPTER  X\  III.     ' 

The  Ox  Team  Monument  Expedition 
Continued. 

INDEPENDENCE  ROCK. 

"Camp  No.  87,  July  S,  11)0(),  odometer  1,005, 
liidependenee  Rock.  We  drove  over  to  the  'Roek,' 
from  the  'Devil's  Gate,'  a  distance  of  six  miles, 
and  eamp(Ml  at  10  :00  o'clock  for  the  day. 

"Not  being  conversant  with  the  work  done  l)y 
others  to  perpetuate  their  names  on  this  famous 
boulder  that  covers  nearly  forty  acres  and  is  a 
mile  around  it,  ^y^i  groped  our  wdj  among  the 
inscriptions  to  tind  most  of  them  nearly  obliter- 
ated and  many  legible  only  in  i)art,  showing  how 
impotent  the  efforts  of  individuals  to  i)er[)etuate 
the  meuKU'y  of  tlu^r  own  lunnes,  and,  may  I  not 
add,  how  foolish  it  is,  in  most  cases,  forgetting 
as' these  individuals  have,  that  it  is  actions,  not 
words,  ev<'n  if  engraved  u])on  stone,  that  carry 
one's  njnne  down  to  future  generations.  We 
walked  all  the  way  aronnd  the  stone,  which,  as  I 
have  said,  was  nearly  a  mile  around,  of  irregular 
shape,  and  about  one  hundred  feet  high,  the  walls 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  149 

iM'iijg  so  precipitous  as  lo  prc^veut  asceudiiig  to 
the  top  excei^t  iu  a  couple  of  vantage  points, 
rnfortnuately,  we  missed  tlie  Fremont  inscrip- 
tion made  in  1842." 

Of  this  inscription  Fremont  writes  in  his 
journal : 

••August  23  (1842  1,  yesterday  evening  we 
readied  our  encampment  at  Ixock  Independence, 
where  I  toolv  some  astronomical  observations. 
Here,  not  unmindfail  of  the  custom  of  early  trav- 
elers and  explorers  in  our  country,  I  engraved 
on  this  rock  of  the  Far  >\'est  a  symbol  of  the 
Christian  faith.  Among  the  thickly  inscribed 
names,  T  made  on  the  hard  granite  the  impression 
of  a  large  cross,  which  I  covered  with  a  black 
prei>aration  of  India  rubber,  well  calculated  to 
resist  the  intiueuce  of  wind  and  rain.  It  stands 
amidst  the  iiauies  of  many  wlio  have  long  since 
foun<l  their  way  to  the  grave,  and  for  whom  the 
huge  rock  is  a  giant  gravestone. 

"One  George  Weymouth  was  sent  out  to  Mainc^ 
by  tlie  Karl  r>f  Southampton,  Loi'd  Arundel,  and 
othei's;  and  iu  the  uai'ralive  of  their  discoveries 
lie  sa.Ns :  •'i'lie  next  (lay,  we  asceuded  iu  oui-  pin- 
nace thai  part  of  the  rivei*  whidi  lies  more  {a  the 
westward,    can-xiug    willi    us    a    ci'oss — a    thing 


150  THE    OX   TEAjNI    OR 

Uiixev  omitted  by  any  Christian  travclci- — whicli 
we  erected  at  tiie  nJtimate  end  of  onr  route.' 
TIu8  Avas  in  tlie  year  i()()5;  and  in  1842  I  obeyed 
the  feeling  of  early  traveler's,  and  left  the  impres- 
sion of  the  cross  deeply  engraved  on  the  vast 
rock  1,000  miles  beyond  the  Mississippi,  to  which 
discoverers  have  given  the  national  name  of  L'ock 
Indepcmlcncc."' 

The  reader  will  note  that  Fremont  writes  in 
1842  of  the  name,  "'to  which  discoverers  have 
given  the  national  name  of  Independence  Eock," 
showing  that  the  naming  of  the  Hock  long  ante- 
dated his  visit,  as  he  had  inscribed  the  cross 
"amidst  the  names  of  many." 

Of  recent  years  the  traveled  road  leads  to  the 
left  of  the  Hock,  going  eastward,  instead  of  to 
the  right  and  nearer  the  left  bank  of  the  Sw(h4- 
water,  as  in  early  years;  and  so  I  selected  a  s[)ot 
on  the  westward  sloping  face  of  the  stone  for  the 
inscription,  "Old  Oregon  Trail,  1843-57,"  near 
the  present  traveled  road  wliere  people  can  see 
it,  as  shown  in  the  illustration,  and  inscribed  it 
with  as  deep  cut  letters  as  we  could  make  with  a 
dulled  cold  chisel,  and  painted  the  sunken  letters 
with  the  best  of  sign  writers'  paint  in  oil.  On 
this  expedition,  Avhere  possible,   I  have  in  like 


THE    OLD   OUECiON    TKAIL 


151 


luauiH'i'   inscribed   ii   imiiiltei-   of   boulders,    with 
])aint  only,  which,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  before  the 


iNi)i;i'i;.\i)i:.Nt'i',  kock. 


life  (if  Ihc   ]»aiiil    b;is  ^oiic  <»iil,   may    iiitd    b)\iiii;' 
bands  |(»   iiisciilM-  (Iccp   into   (be  sloiic;   bill    here 


152  THE   OX    TEAM   OR 

on  this  huge  boulder  I  hope  the  iuseription  may 
hist  for  centuries,  tlioui>li  not  as  deeply  cut  as  I 
would  have  liked  had  we  but  had  suitable  tools. 

FISH  CREEK. 

Eleven  miles  out  from  Independence  Rock  w(; 
nooned  on  the  bank  of  a  small  stream,  W(dl 
named  Fish  creek,  for  it  literally  swarmed  with 
fish  of  suitable  size  for  the  pan,  but  they  would 
not  bite,  and  we  had  no  appliances  for  catching 
with  a  net,  and  so  consoled  ourselves  with  the 
exclamation  they  were  suckers  only,  and  we 
didn't  care,  but  I  came  away  with  the  feeling 
that  maybe  we  were  "snckers"  ourselves  for  hav- 
ing wet  a  blanket  in  the  attempt  to  seine  them, 
got  into  the  water  over  boot  top  deep,  and  worked 
all  the  noon  liour  instead  of  resting  as  like  an 
ehh'rly  person  should  and  as  like  the  oxen  did. 

NORTH  PLATTE  RIVER. 

Our  next  camp  brought  us  to  the  North  Platte 
river,  flft(HMi  miles  al)()ve  the  town  of  Casper. 

F  quote  from  my  journal : 

"Camp  No.  89,  North  Platte  river,  July  5, 1906, 
odometer  1 ,101,  distance  traveled  twenty-two 
miles. 


THE  OLD  OUEGON  TRAIL  153 

"A\'c  followed  Hie  old  Trail  till  near  4  :00  I'.^L 
aud  then  eaine  to  the  forks  of  the  traveled  road, 
with  the  Trail  iintraveled  by  any  one  going 
straight  ahead  between  the  two  roads.  I  took 
the  right-hand  road,  fearing  the  other  led  off  too 
far  north,  and  anyway  the  one  taken  wonld  lead 
us  to  the  North  IMatte  river;  and  on  the  old  Trail 
there  \\onld  be  no  water,  as  we  were  informed, 
until  we  reached  Casper.  We  did  not  arrive  at 
the  Platte  river  until  after  dark,  and  then  found 
tlicrc  was  no  feed;  got  s<nne  musty  alfalfa  hay 
the  cattle  would  not  eat;  ha<l  a  little  crack<Hl 
corn  we  had  haulefl  iwarly  :>(M)  miles  from  Kem- 
mercr,  and  had  fed  (hem  the  lasl  of  it  in  the  after- 
noon ;  went  to  bed  in  the  wagon,  first  watering 
the  cattle,  after  dark,  from  the  North  Platte, 
w  hieli  I  had  not  seen  for  over  fifty-four  years,  as 
I  Iia<l  passed  lifleeii  mib's  beb)W  here  the  last  of 
•hi  lie,  isr)ii. 

''Several  times  during  llie  afternoon  there  were 
threatening  clouds,  ace(nii])anied  by  distant  light- 
niiiii-.  and  at  one  lime  a  bbi<k  (loiid  in  tlie  center, 
with  rapifl  moving  (loiids  around  it  made  me 
ihink  of  a  toniacb*,  but  linally  disappearetl  with- 
out strikini:  us.     Heavy  wind  at   iiiglit. 


154  THE    OX    TEAM   OR 

'^Tliis  aftcniooii  as  we  avci-c  driving,  with  Itutli 
ill  the  wagon,  AMIliani  iicanl  the  rattles  of  a 
snake,  and  jninped  out  of  the  wagon  and  thought- 
lessly called  the  dog.  I  stopped  the  Avagon  and 
called  the  dog  aA\ay  from  the  reptile  until  it  was 
killed.  When  stretched  out  it  measured  four  feet 
eight  inches,  and  had  eight  rattles. 

CASPER,  WYOMING. 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

''Camp  No.  00,  odometer  1,117|/.,  (^asper,  Wy- 
oming, July  6.  At  the  noon  hour,  while  eating 
dinner,  seven  miles  out,  we  heard  the  whistle  of 
the  locomotive,  something  we  ha<l  neither  seen 
nor  heard  for  nearly  300  miles.  As  soon  as  lunch 
was  over  I  left  the  wagon  and  walked  in  ahead  of 
the  team  to  select  camping  ground,  secure  feed, 
and  get  the  mail ;  received  twenty  letters,  several 
from  home. 

"Fortunately  a  special  meeting  of  the  commer- 
cial club  Avas  held  this  evening,  and  I  laid  the 
matter  of  building  a  mouument  before  them,  Avith 
the  usual  result:  they  resolved  to  build  one  and 
opened  the  subscription  at  once,  and  appointed  a 
committee  to  carry  tlie  Avork  forAvard.  I  am  as- 
sured by  several  pi-umiiicnt  citizens  that  a  |500 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  155 

moiuinieut  will  be  erected,"  as  the  city  council 
will  join  with  the  club  to  provide  for  a  fountain 
as  well,  and  place  it  on  the  most  public  street- 
crossing  of  the  citv. 

Glen  l\ock  was  the  next  place  in  our  itinerary, 
which  we  readied  at  dark,  after  having  driven 
twenty-iive  and  one-fourth  miles.  This  is  the 
hmgest  drive  we  have  made  on  the  whole  trip. 

GLEN  ROCK. 

Glen  liock  is  a  small  village,  but  the  ladies  met 
and  resolved  the}'  "would  have  as  nice  a  monu- 
ment as  Gasper,"  even  if  it  did  not  cost  as  much, 
because  then;  ^^■as  a  stone  quarry  out  but  six 
miles  from  towiL  One  enthusiastic  lady  said 
"we  will  inscribe  it  ourselves,  if  no  stone  cutter 
can  be  had."  '* 'AViiere  there's  a  will  there's  a 
way,'  as  thf  old  ;i(l;ig('  nnis,"  I  said  as  we  left  the 
nice  lit!  le  biii-g  and  said  good  bye  to  the  eiierget  ie 
ladies  in  it.  God  bless  the  women  anyhow;  1 
don't  see  how  the  \\(»i-ld  eoidd  get  along  without 
Iheiii;  and  anyway  I  don't  see  what  life  wonld 
have  been  to  ine  withont  that  little  faithfnl  com- 
panion that  came  ctvei'  this  v<'ry  same  gronnd 
wiili  me  liriy-roni-  yeai-s  ;ii:o  and  still  li\'es  to  re- 
joice I'oi-  t  lie  many,  many  blessings  \  (tuchs;it'ed  to 
ns  and  oni-  descendants. 


150  THE    OX    TEA^r    OU 

DOUGLAS,  WYOMING. 

At  Douglas,  Wyomiiig-,  1,177  Vii  miles  out  from 
The  Dalles,  the  people  at  first  seemed  reluctant 
to  assume  the  responsibilit}'  of  erecting  a  monu- 
ment, CA^erybodj  l)eing  ''too  busy"  to  give  up  any 
time  to  it,  but  were  willing  to  contribute.  Aftc^r 
a  short  canvass,  |52  was  contributed,  a  local  com- 
mittee appointed,  and  an  organized  <'lfort  to  erect 
a  monument  was  well  in  hand  before  we  drove 
out  of  the  town. 

1  here  witnessed  on<*  of  those  heavy  downpours 
like  sonu^  I  remember  in  '52,  where,  as  in  this 
case,  tlu^  water  came  down  in  veritable  sheets 
and  in  an  incredibly  short  tinu^  turned  all  the 
slopes  into  roaring  torrents  and  level  places  into 
lakes;  the  water  ran  six  inches  de(^p  in  the  streets 
in  this  cas(%  on  a  very  heavy  grade  the  whole 
width  of  the  street. 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

"C/amp  No.  95,  July  12,  odometer  1,192.  We 
are  camped  under  the  shade  of  a  group  of  balm 
trees  in  the  Platte  bottom  near  the  bridge  at  the 
farm  of  a  company.  Dr.  J.  M.  Wilson  in  charge, 
where  we  found  a  good  Ax^getable  garden  and 
were  bidden  to  help  ourselves,  which  I  did,  with 
a  liberal  hand,  to  a  feast  of  young  onions,  rad- 
ishes, beets,  and  lettuce  enough  for  several  days." 


TITE    ()M)   (>UE(;oX    TUAIL  157 

PUYALLUP—TACOMA— SEATTLE. 

Tliis  rcfreshiiij;  shade  and  these  spreading 
balms  carried  me  baelv  to  tlie  little  cabin  home 
in  the  Puyalhip  valley,  1,500  miles  away,  where 
we  had  for  so  long  a  period  enjoyed  the  cool 
sliades  of  the  native  forests,  enlivened  by  the 
cliarms  of  songsters  at  ])eep  of  day,  with  the  dri])- 
piiig  dew  off  the  leaves  like  as  if  a  shower  had 
fallen  o\('r  Ihe  forest.  Having  now  passed  the 
1,200-111  ih'  mark  (mt  from  The  Dalles,  with 
scarcely  the  vestige  of  timber  life,  except  in  the 
snows  of  the  151ne  iiiouiilaiiis,  one  can  not  wonder 
thai  my  mind  shonld  rnn  back  to  not  only  the 
liltlc  cabin  home  as  well  as  to  the  more  preten- 
tious residence  near  by;  to  the  time  when  onr 
hoiiiestead  of  100. acres,  granted  iis  by  this  great 
government  (►f  the  jjcople,  was  a  dense  forest; 
when  the  litlle  clearing  was  so  isolated  we  could 
see  naught  else  but  wails  of  limber  around  lis; 
tiiiibfi-  I  hat  i-e(|uire(l  the  lalior  of  one  man  twelve 
years  to  i-fiuovc  il  olf  a  (|iiarl('r  section  of  land; 
of  the  lime  when  trails  only  i-eached  the  spot; 
w  hen,  as  I  11"  |»oct   w  role, 

"Oxen  answered  well   for  team, 
Thougli   now  they'd   l)e  too  slow;" 

wlicii   tlic  seuiiiuoiii  lil\    mail    was  eagerly   looked 


158  THE    OX   TEAM    OR 

for;  wlic'U  the  Tiihunc  would  be  reread  again  aud 
again  before  the  new  supply  came;  when  the 
morning  hours  before  breakfast  were  our  only 
school  hours  for  the  children;  when  the  home- 
made slioe  pegs  and  the  home-shaped  shoe  lasts 
ans\\'ered  for  making  and  mending  the  shoes,  and 
the  home-saved  bristle  for  the  waxed  end;  when 
the  Indians,  if  not  our  nearest  neighbors,  I  had 
liked  to  have  said  our  best;  when  the  meat  in 
the  l)arrel  and  the  Hour  in  the  box,  in  spite  of  the 
most  strenuous  elt'orts,  would  at  times  run  low; 
A\'hen  the  time  for  labor  would  be  much  nearer 
eighteen  than  eight  hours  a  day. 

"Hujjpcr.^^  Supper  is  ready;  and  wlnm  re- 
]>eated  in  more  imperative  tones,  I  at  last  awake 
to  inhale  the  fragrant  flavors  of  that  most  deli- 
cious beverage,  camp  Goifee,  from  the  INIocha  and 
Java  mixed  grain  that  had  "just  come  to  a  boil," 
and  to  realize  tlun-e  was  sometliing  else  in  the  air 
when  tlie  l»ill  of  fare  was  scanned. 

MENIT. 

Calf's  liver,  fried  crisp,  with  bacon. 
Coffee,  Avith  cream,  aud  a  lump  of  bu(  t(M'  added. 
Lettuce,  with  vin(\gar  and  sugar. 
Young  onions. 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  159 

]>oiled  3'oung  carrots. 

Kadishes. 

Beets,  covered  with  ^iuegar. 

Cornmeal  mush,  cooked  forty  minutes,  iu  re- 
sen'e  and  for  a  breakfast  fry. 

These  ^'delicacies  of  the  season,"  coupled  with 
the — what  shall  I  call  it? — delicious  appetite  in- 
cident to  a  strenuous  day's  travel  and  a  late  sup- 
per hour,  without  a  dinner  padding  in  the  stom- 
ach, aroused  me  to  a  sense  of  the  necessities  of 
th'c  inner  man,  and  to  that  keen  relish  incident 
1()  prolonged  exertion  and  an  open-air  life,  and 
Justice  was  meted  out  to  the  second  meal  of  the 
day  following  a  5:00  o'clock  breakfast. 

I  awoke  also  to  the  fact  fhat  I  was  on  the  spot 
ncjir  where  T  liad  camped  fifty-four  years  ago  in 
this  same  Platte  valh'y,  then  apparently  almost 
a  desert.  Now  what  do  I  sec^?  As  we  drew  into 
ramp  two  mowing  machines  cutting  the  alfalfa; 
two  oi'  more  teams  raking  the  cured  hay  to  the 
rick,  and  a  liuge  fork  or  rake  at  intervals  climb- 
ing the  steep  incline  of  fenders  to  above  the  top 
of  the  rick,  and  depositing  its  equivalent  of  a 
wagon-load  at  a  tiine.  To  my  right,  as  we  drove 
through  the  gnte  the  large  garden  looked  tempt- 
ingly near,  as  did  some  rows  of  small  fruit.  ITay 
11 


160  THE   OX   TEAM   OK 

ricks  dotted  the  field,  and  onthouses,  barns,  and 
dwellings  at  the  home.  AVe  are  in  the  midst  of 
plenty  and  the  guests,  we  may  almost  say,  of 
friends,  instead  of  feeling  we  mnst  deposit  the 
trusted  rifle  in  convenient  place  while  we  eat. 
Yes,  we  will  exclaim  again,  ''What  wondrous 
changes  time  has  wrought!" 

But  my  mind  will  go  back  to  the  little  ivy- 
covered  cabin  now  so  carefull}^  preserved  in  Pio- 
neer Park  in  the  little  pretentious  city  of  Pu- 
yallup,  that  was  once  our  homestead,  and  so  long 
our  home,  and  wlien^  the  residence  still  stands 
near  by.  The  timber  is  all  gone  and  in  its  place 
brick  blocks  and  pleasant,  modest  homes  are 
found ;  where  the  roots  and  stumps  once  occupied 
the  ground  now  smiling  fruit  gardens  adorn  the 
landscape  and  fill  the  purses  of  400  fruit  grow- 
ers, and  supply  the  wants  of  4,000  people.  In- 
stead of  the  slow,  trudging  ox  team,  driven  to  the 
market  town  sixteen  miles  distant,  with  a  day  in 
camp  on  the  way,  1  see  fifty-four  railroad  trains 
a  day  thundering  through  the  town.  I  see  elec- 
tric lines  with  crowded  cars  carrying  passengers 
to  tide  water  and  to  that  rising  city  of  Tacoma, 
but  seven  miles  distant.  I  see  a  quarter  of  a 
million  peoph^  within  a  radius  of  thii'ty  miles, 


THE    OLD   OREGON    TIIAIL  161 

where  .solitude  reigued  supreme  fifty-four  j^ears 
ago,  save  tlie  song  of  tlie  Indians,  tlie  tliunip  of 
his  eanoe  paddle,  or  the  din  of  his  gandding  rev- 
els. AA'hen  I  go  down  to  the  Sound  I  see  a  mile 
of  shii)ping  docks  where  before  the  waters  rip- 
pled over  a  pebbly  beaeli  tilled  with  shell  tish.  I 
look  farther,  and  see  hundreds  of  steamers  plying 
hither  and  yon  on  the  great  inland  sea,  where 
fifty-four  years  ago  the  Indian's  canoe  only  noise- 
lessly- skimmed  the  water.  I  see  hundreds  of  sail 
vessels  that  whiten  every  sea  of  the  globe,  being 
either  towed  liere  and  there  or  at  dock,  receiving 
or  discharging  cargo,  where  before  scarce  a  dozen 
had  in  a  year  ventured  the  voyage.  At  the  docks 
of  Seattle  I  see  the  28,000-ton  steamers  receiving 
their  monster  cargoes  for  the  Orient,  and  am  re- 
minded that  these  monsters  can  enter  any  of  the 
numerous  harbors  of  Puget  Sound  and  are  su])- 
plciiiciilcd  by  a  great  array  of  oilier  sleaiii  (<>u- 
nag«*  contending  for  (bat  vast  a<-ross-sea  Irade, 
an«l  again  exchiiiii  willi  greater  woncb'rmeut 
llian  ever,  ''Wlial  \v(mi(1i'ous  elianges  lime  lias 
wrought!"  Tf  T  look  through  the  channels  of 
Puget  Sound,  1  yet  see  the  forty  islands  or  more; 
its  sixfeen  Inimlred  miles  of  sliore  line;  its  schools 
of  tisli.  an«l  at    iiilei-vals  (lie  seal;  i(s  myriads  of 


162  THE   OX    TEAM    OR 

sea  gulls;  the  hawking  crow;  the  elam  beds;  the 
ebb  and  flow  of  the  tide,  still  there.  But  many 
happy  homes  dot  the  shore  line  where  the  dense 
forests  stood;  the  wild  fruits  have  given  way  to 
the  cultivated;  train-loads  of  fruit  go  out  to  dis- 
tant markets;  and  what  we  once  looked  upon 
as  barren  land  now  gives  i)lenteous  crops; 
and  v^'e  again  exclaim,  ''What  wondrous  changes 
time  has  wrought,"  or  sluill  we  not  say, 
"What  Avondrous  changes  the  hand  of  man  has 
Avrought  I" 

But  I  am  admonished  I  have  wandered  and 
must  needs  get  back  to  our  narrative  1852-190G. 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  163 


CHAPTEK  XIX. 

The  Ox  Teajsi  Monument  Expedition 
Continued. 

FORT  LARAMIE,  WYOMING. 

T  (2U0TE  from  my  joui-iial : 
1  "Camp  No.  1)!),  -Inly  10,  Fort  Laramie,  odom- 
eter 1,247.  Fi-om  the  time  we  crossed  tlie  Mis- 
souri ill  May,  1852,  until  we  arrived  opposite  this 
])hiee  OD  the  north  bank  of  the  Phitte,  no  place  or 
name  was  so  univ^ersally  in  the  minds  of  the  emi- 
grants as  okl  Fort  Laramie;  here,  we  eagerly 
looked  for  letters  tliat  never  came — maybe  our 
fiicnds  and  relativ(^s  had  not  written;  maybe  they 
lijid  and  the  letter  lost  or  dumped  somewhere  in 
'The  States';  but  now  all  hope  vanished  to  hear 
froui  home  till  the  loni»'  journey  was  ended  and 
:i  missive  reach  us  by  the  Isthmus  or  maybe  by  a 
sail  vessel  ai-omid  ('ai)e  IIoriL  Now,  as  I  write, 
I  kuow  my  hotter  written  in  the  morning  will  at 
iiiiiiit  Ixi  on  the  banks  of  tin;  great  river,  and  so 
foi-  each  day  of  the  year.  One  never  ceases  to  ex- 
claim, '^\'Ila(  cliauiit's  time  has  wr<Might!'  ^Vhat 
w oihIi'ous  <liaiii:cs  in  llicsc  lil'lN' -Cour  vars,  since 


16i  THE    OX    TEAM    Oil 

I  first  set  foot  ou  the  banks  of  the  Platte  and 
looked  longingly  across  the  river  for  the  letter 
that  never  came. 

''Tliis  morning  at  4  :30  tlie  alarm  sounded,  l)iit 
in  spite  of  our  strenuous  efforts  the  start  was 
delayed  till  0:15.  Conditions  were  such  as  to 
give  us  a  liot  day,  l)ut  tlrt^  cattle  would  not  trav(d 
without  eating  the  grass  in  the  road,  having  for 
some  cause  not  liked  the  grass  they  were  ou  dur- 
ing tli(^  uiglit,  and  so,  after  driving  a  couple  of 
miles  and  finding  splendid  feed,  we  turned  them 
out  to  fill  up,  which  they  speedily  did,  and  tln^ro- 
after  became  laggards,  too  lazy  for  anything.  So 
after  all  we  did  not  arrive  here  till  4  :00,  and  with 
dinner  at  six  small  wonder  if  we  had  good 
appetites. 

"Locally  it  is  difficult  to  get  accurate  informa- 
tion. All  agree  there  is  no  vestige  of  the  old 
Traders  Camp  or  the  first  United  States  Fort 
left,  but  disagree  as  to  its  location.  The  new 
fort  (not  a  fort,  but  an  encampment)  covers  a 
space  of  thirty  or  forty  acres  with  all  sorts  of 
buildings  and  ruins,  from  the  old  barracks,  three 
hundred  feet  long,  in  good  preservation  and  oc- 
cupied by  the  ])resent  owner,  Joseph  AVild,  as  a 
store,  postotfice,  saloon,  hotel,  and  family  resi- 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  1(35 

dcncc,  to  the  old  ij;uai-d-house  with  its  j2,Tim  irou 
door  mid  tweutv-iuch  concrete  walls.  One  frame 
building,  t\\o  stories,  we  are  told,  was  trans- 
ported from  Kansas  City  at  a  eosit  of  $100  per  ton 
freight  by  ox  teams.  There  seems  to  be  no  plan 
either  in  ihe  arrangements  of  the  buildings  or  of 
the  liuildiiigs  tluMiiselves.  I  noticed  one  building, 
l)art  stone,  part  concrete,  part  adobe,  and  part 
of  burnt  brick.  The  concrete  walls  of  one  build- 
ing measured  twenty-two  inches  thick  and  there 
is  evi(h'n(e  of  the  use  of  lime  with  a  lavish  hand, 
and  I  tliiidv  all  of  them  are  alike  massive. 

"Tile  iofalion  of  Ihe  barracks  is  in  Sec.  28,  T. 
2(»  \.,  n.  (;4  \y.  of  (»th  p.  M.,  rnited  States 
survey." 

SCOTTSBLUFF. 

We  di-ove  out  from  the  town  of  Scottsbluff  to 
tlie  left  I)auk  of  the  North  Platte,  less  than  a  mile 
fioiii  the  low  II,  1(»  a  i>oint  nearly  o})posite  that 
iioicd  landmark,  Scolts  P>lurf,  on  tlie  right  bank, 
looiiiiiiu  ii|»  near  eight  linndred  feet  above  the 
river  and  adjoining  green  lields,  an<l  plioto- 
gi';i|>lic(l   I  lie  blnll's  and  seel  ion  of  Ihe  i"iver. 

Pi-oltaldy  iM>  emigrant  of  early  days  bnt  re- 
mcndicrs  Scol  isblnl'f,  wliicli  could  lie  seen  for  so 


THE   OLD   OllEGON    TRAIL  167 

loug  a  distciuee,  uud  yet  appareutly  so  near  for 
(lays  and  days,  till  it  finally  sank  out  of  sight  as 
we  passed  on,  and  new  objects  came  into  view. 
Like  as  witli  Turtle  Rock  (see  illustration)  the 
formation  is  sand  and  clay  cemented,  yet  soft 
enough  to  cut  easily,  and  is  constantly  changing 
in  smaller  details. 

\Ve  certainly  saw  Scottsblutf  while  near  the 
junction  of  the  two  rivers,  over  a  hundred  miles 
distant,  in  that  illusive  phenomenon,  the  mirage, 
as  plainly  as  when  within  a  few  miles  of  it. 

Speaking  of  this  deceptive  manifestation  of 
<me  natural  law,  I  am  led  to  wonder  why,  on 
the  (rip  of  190(i,  1  have  seen  nothing  of  those 
sheets  of  water  so  real  as  to  \m  almost  within  our 
grasp  yet  never  reached,  those;  hills  and  valleys 
\\(;  never  traversed,  beautiful  pietures  on  the 
horizon  and  sometimes  above,  while  traversing 
the  valley  in  1852;  all  gone,  perhaps  to  be  seen 
no  more,  as  climatic  changes  come  to  destroy  the 
(onditions  that  caused  them.  Perhaps  this  may 
in  \r.[\'i  be  caused  by  the  add<'d  humidity  of  the 
nl  iiiosphei-e,  or  it  may  be  also  in  |)art  because  of 
till-  iiuiiicrous  gi-o\('S  of  linibei-  that  now  adorn 
the  hindscapc.  W  halcvcr  the  cause,  the  fact  re- 
iiKfins  llinl   in  I  lie  \ciw  of  lsr>2  the  mirage  was  of 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  169 

coiiimou  uccuiix'uce  aud  uow,  if  seeu  at  all,  is 
rare. 

The  origin  of  the  name  of  Scottsbluff  is  not 
definitely  known,  but  as  tradition  runs,  "a  trader 
named  Scott,  while  returning  to  the  states,  was 
roiihcd  and  stripped  by  the  Indians.  He  crawled 
to  these  bluffs  and  there  faniisluMl,  and  his  bones 
were  afterw  ards  found  and  buried,"  these  quoted 
words  havinii  been  written  by  a  passing  emigrant 
on  the  s])(>t,  June  11,  1852.  As  I  passed,  stories 
were  told  me  of  same  imv>or(  but  shifting  the 
time  to  1800. 

THE  DEAD  OF  THE  PLAINS. 

From  Ihe  "illiilfs"  we  drove  as  direct  as  pos- 
sible to  that  liist<U'ic  grave,  two  miles  out  from 
the  town  aud  on  the  railroad  right  of  way,  of 
Mrs.  Rebecca  Winters,  \\  lio  died  August  15,  1852, 
nearly  six  weeks  after  I  had  ])assed  over  the 
ground.  l>ut  for  the  handiwork  of  souu^  un- 
known fi-ieihl  or  rchilive,  tliis  gi-ave,  like  thou- 
sands and  tlionsands  of  others  who  fell  by  th(^ 
waysid(-  in  those  sti-ennons  d;iys,  this  gi-ave  would 
lia\'e  pnssed  (»ut  (tf  sight  and  mind  iiiMJ  neslled 
in  soiilU(h-  ;ind  unknown  foi-  :ill  ages  to  conu'. 
As  \':\v  b;itk  ;is  the  niein<u-y  of  the  (ddcst   inhiibi- 


170  THE    OX   TEAM   OK 

tant  runs  a  half  sunken  wagon  tire  bore  this 
simple  inscription,  "Rebecca  Winters,  aged  50 
years."  The  hoofs  of  stock  trampled  the  sunken 
grave  and  trod  it  into  dust,  but  the  arch  of  the 
tire  remained  to  defy  the  strength  of  thoughtless 
liands  who  A\()uld  have  removed  it,  and  of  the 
ravages  of  time  tluit  seemed  not  to  have  affected 
it.  Finally,  in  "the  lapse  of  time,"  that  usually 
non-respecter  of  persons — the  railroad  survey — 
and  afterward  the  rails  came  along  and  would 
have  run  the  track  over  the  lonely  grave  but  for 
the  tender  care  of  the  man  who  wielded  the  com- 
pass and  changed  the  line,  that  the  resting  place 
of  the  pioneer  should  not  be  disturbed,  followed 
by  the  noble  imi)ulse  of  him  Avho  wielded  the 
power  of  control  of  the  "soulless"  corporation, 
and  the  grave  was  protected  and  enclosed.  Then 
came  the  ])ress  correspondent  and  the  press  to 
herald  to  the  world  the  pathos  of  the  lone  grave, 
to  in  time  reach  the  eyes  and  to  touch  the  hearts 
of  the  descendants  of  the  dead,  Avho  had  almost 
passed  out  of  memory  and  to  quicken  the  interest 
in  the  memory  of  one  once  dear  to  them,  till  in 
time  there  arose  a  beautiful  monument  lovingly 
inscribed,  just  one  hundred  years  after  the  birth 
of  the  inmate  of  the  grave. 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  171 

As  I  looked  upon  this  grave,  now  .surrounded 
by  green  fields  and  happy  homes,  my  mind  ran 
back  to  the  time  it  was  first  occupied  in  the  des- 
ert, as  all  believed  the  countr}^  through  which  we 
were  passing  to  be,  and  of  the  awful  calamity  that 
overtook  so  many  to  carry  them  to  their  untimely 
and  unknown  graves.     The  ravages  of  cholera 
had  carried  off  thousands.     One  family  of  seven 
a  little  further  down  the  I'latte  lie  all  in  one 
grave;  forty-one  persons  of  one  train  dead  in  one 
day  and  two  nights  tells  but  i^art  of  the  dreadful 
story,      Tlie   count   of   fifty-three    freshly   made 
graves  in  one  camp  ground  left  a  vivid  impress 
upon  my  jnind  lliat  has  never  been  effaced,  but 
where  now  are  those  graves?     They  are  now  ir- 
I'evocably  lost.     I  can  recall  to  mind  one  point 
wliere  seventy  were  l)uried  in  one  little  group, 
iK)t  one  of  tlie  gra\'es  now  to  be  seen — trampled 
(Hii  of  sight  by  the  hoofs  of  tlie  millions  of  stock 
l;i(('i'   passing  over  th(!  Ti-ail.      IJearing  this   in 
iiiiiid,  how  precious  this  the  iiiciiiory  of  even  one 
grave  rescued  from  oblivion,  and  how  precious 
will  become  the  memory  of  the  deeds  of  those 
who  have  so  freely  dedicated   their  part  to  re- 
freshei'.    Ibc   ineiiiory   of   the  past   and    to   honor 
liiose  slin-dy  jtioncci's  who  survived,  as  well   as 


THE   OI.I)   OREGON    TKAIFj  173 

the  dead,  by  erecting  those  inouumeuts  that  uow 
line  the  Trail  for  nearly  two  thousand  miles.  To 
these,  one  and  all,  I  bow  my  head  in  grateful 
memory  of  their  aid  in  this  work  to  perpetuate 
the  memory  of  the  pioneers  and  especially  tin? 
3,000  school  children  who  have  each  contributed 
their  mite  that  the  memory  of  the  dead  pioneers 
might  rciiiniu  fresh  in  their  minds  and  the  minds 
of  generations  to  follow. 

A  drive  of  seventeen  miles  broughl  us  io  the 
town  of  IJayanl,  1,338  miles  on  the  Avay  from  The 
Dalles,  Oregon,  where  our  continuous  drive 
began. 

CHIMNEY  ROCK. 

('liiiiinev  Kock  is  six  miles  southwesterly  in 
full  y\c\\\  a  cni-ious  freak  of  ualure  we  all  re- 
iiieiiiber  while  ]);issiiig  in  '51'. 

Tlie  b;ise  reminds  one  of  an  iiml)rella  standing 
on  I  lie  uroniHl,  covei-ing  perha])s  (welve  acres  an<l 
ninning,  cone-slmjK'd,  200  feet  1o  Ihe  base  of  (lu^ 
spire  resting  upon  it.  The  spire  ('<-himney) 
]»oints  to  llie  he;i\('ns,  wliirli  would  entitle  the 
pile  to  a  nioi-e  api>i*o|iriale  name,  as  like  a  clMU'ch 
spii'e  (sec  illnst  i-al  ion  L  tali  and  slim,  Ihe 
woiidei-  of  all  how  it  comes  the  hand  of  time 
has  not  JcNeled  it  loim  a^o  and  mingled  its  ciMini 


174  THE   OX   TEAM   OR 

bling  substauce  with  that  lying  at  its  base.  The 
whole  pile,  like  that  at  Scottsbluff  and  Court 
House  llook  further  down,  is  a  sort  of  soft  sand- 
stone, or  cement  and  clay,  gradually  crumbling 
aAvay  antl  destined  to  be  leveled  to  the  earth  in 
centuries  to  come. 

A  local  story  runs  that  an  army  officer  trained 
artillery  on  this  spire,  shot  off  about  thirty  feet 
of  the  top,  and  was  afterwards  court-martialed 
and  discharged  in  disgrace  from  the  army;  but 
I  could  get  no  definite  information,  though  re- 
peated again  and  again.  It  would  seem  incred- 
ible that  an  intelligent  man,  such  as  an  army 
officer,  would  do  such  an  act,  and  if  he  did  he 
deserved  severe  condemnation  and  punishment. 

I  noticed  that  at  Soda  Springs  the  hand  of  the 
vandal  had  been  at  work,  and  that  interesting 
]>heuomenon,  tlie  Steamboat  Spring,  the  wonder- 
ment of  all  in  1<S52,  with  its  intermittent  spout- 
ing, had  been  tampered  with  and  ceased  to  act. 
It  would  seem  the  degenerates  were  not  all  dead 
yet. 

NORTH  PLATTE,  NEBRASKA. 

At  North  Platte  the  ladies  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U. 
appointed  a  committee  to  undertake  to  erect  a 
monument,  the  business  men  all  refusing  to  give 


THE   OLD   OREGON    TUAIL  1(0 

up  any  time.  However,  \V.  ( \  Rituer,  a  respected 
citizen  of  Xortli  Platte,  ottered  to  donate  a  hand- 
some monument  of  cement  base,  marble  cap, 
stone  and  c<'ment  column,  tiv(^  and  a  half  feet 
liiuli,  which  will  be  acceptcMl  b.v  the  ladies  and 
erected  in  a  suitable  ])lace. 


12 


176  THE    OX   TEAM    OR 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Obituary  Notice.  • 

DEATH  OF  TWIST. 

^^/^^LD  Uregou  Trail  Mouiiineiit  Expedition, 
V-/  Brady  Island,  Neb.,  Aug.  9,  1906,  Camp 
Xo.  120,  odometer  1,536%.  Yesterday  morning- 
Twist  ate  his  grain  as  usual  and  showed  no  signs 
of  sickness  until  we  were  on  the  road  two  or  three 
miles,  when  he  began  to  put  his  tongue  out  and 
his  breathing  became  heavy.  But  he  leaned  on 
the  yoke  heavier  than  usual  and  seemed  deter- 
mined to  pull  the  whole  load.  1  finally  stopped, 
l)ut  him  on  the  off  side,  gave  him  the  long  end  of 
the  yoke  and  tied  his  head  back  with  the  halter 
strap  to  the  chain,  but  to  no  purpose,  for  he 
pulled  by  the  head  very  heavy.  I  finally  unyoked, 
gavv^  him  a  quart  of  lard,  a  gill  of  vinegar,  and  a 
handful  of  sugar,  but  all  to  no  purpose,  for  he 
soon  fell  down  and  in  two  hours  was  dead." 

Such  is  the  record  in  ni}^  journal  telling  of  the 
death  of  this  noble  animal,  ^^  ho  I  think  died  from 
eating  some  poisonous  plant. 

"When  we  started  from  Camp  Xo.  1,  January 
29,  Puyallup,  Washington,  Twist  weighed  1,470 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  177 

pounds.  After  we  liad  crossed  two  ranges  of 
mountains,  had  Avallowed  in  the  snows  of  the 
lilue  mountains,  followed  the  tortuous  rocky 
canyons  of  IJurut  river,  up  the  deep  sand  of  the 
Hnake,  this  ox  had  gained  in  weight  137  pounds, 
and  weighed  ],607  pounds  while  laboring  under 
the  short  end  of  the  yoke  that  gave  him  fifty-five 
per  cent  of  the  draft  and  an  increased  burden  he 
iroiild  assume  by  keeping  his  end  of  the  yoke  a 
lit  lie  alicad,  no  matter  how  much  tlie  mate  miglit 
be  ui'gcd  to  keep  up, 

"There  are  striking  individualities  in  aniuials 
as  well  as  in  men,  and  I  had  liked  to  have  said 
virtues  as  well;  and  why  not?  If  an  animal  al- 
ways does  his  duty;  is  faithful  to  your  interest; 
induslrious — why  not  call  it  by  the  right  mime, 
i'vcn  if  he  was  'nothing  but  an  ox?' 

"We  are  wont  to  extol  the  virtue  of  the  dead 
and  to  forget  their  shortcomings,  but  here  a  ])lain 
slatcuicnl  of  fads  will  siiHicc  io  revive  the  uiem- 
orics  (»r  (lie  jiliiiosl  I'orgollcn  ]»asl  of  a  lyjK'  so 
<lcar  (o  (he  pioneers  who  siruggled  across  Plains 
and  over  mountains  in  tin;  long  ago, 

"To  understand  tlie  achievements  of  (his  ox  il 
is  necessary  to  state  the  burden  he  carried.  The 
wagon   weighed   1,430  pounds,   is  a  wooden  axle 


178  THE   OX    TEAM    OR 

and  wide  track  with  au  average  load  of  800 
pounds.  He  had,  with  an  unbrolven  four-year- 
old  steer, — a  natural-born  shirk — with  the  short 
end  of  the  yoke  before  mentioned,  hauled  this 
wagon  1,770  miles  and  was  in  better  working 
trim  when  lie  died  than  when  the  trip  began. 
And  yet,  am  1  sure  that  at  some  points  I  did  not 
abuse  him?  >Miat  about  coming  up  out  of  Little 
Canyon  over,  or  rather  up  the  steep  rocky  steps 
of  stones  like  veritable  stairs,  when  I  used  tlu» 
goad,  and  he  pulled  a  sho(i  oft"  aud  his  feet  from 
under  liiui?  A>'as  1  uierciful  then  or  did  I  exact 
more  tJian  I  ought?  I  can  see  him  yet  in  my 
mind,  while  on  his  knees  holding  the  wagon  from 
rolling  back  into  the  canyon  till  the  wheel  could 
be  blocked  and  the  brakes  set.  Then  Avhen  bid 
to  start  the  load,  he  did  not  flinch.  He  was  the 
best  ox  I  ever  saw,  without  exception,  and  his 
loss  has  nearly  broken  np  the  expedition,  and  it 
is  one  case  Avhere  his  like  can  not  be  replaced. 
He  has  had  a  decent  burial,  and  a  head-board 
will  mark  his  grave  and  recite  his  achievements 
in  the  valuable  aid  rendered  in  this  expedition 
to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  old  Oregon  Trail 
and  {iw  which  he  has  given  up  his  life." 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  179 


CHAPTEK  XXI. 

The  Ox  Team  Monument  Expedition 
Continued. 

WHAT  sliall  I  do?  Abandon  the  work?  No. 
lUit  1  can  not  go  on  with  one  ox  and  can 
not  in  all  this  country  find  another,  and  I  can 
not  lay  here.  And  so  a  horse  team  was  hired  to 
take  ns  to  the  next  town,  Gothenburg — thirteen 
miles  distant,  and  the  lone  ox  led  behind  the 
wagon. 

GOTHENBURG,  NEBRASKA. 

•'(lothciiluu'g,  Nebraska,  August  10,  lt)0(>, 
('ami)  No.  121,  odouieter  1,540.  The  people  here 
resolved  to  erect  a  mouuiiieut,  appointed  a  com- 
mittee, and  some  fiflccu  dollars  conlributiou  was 
secured. 

LEXINGTON. 

Again  liii'cd  a  horse  leaiii  to  haul  the  wagon 
to  Lexington.  A1  Lexiuglo'i  I  thonglil  (o  i-e- 
paii'  til''  loss  of  the  o\  by  haying  a  pair  of  heavy 
cows  an«l  breaking  Iheni  into  work,  and  s(» 
purehased  two  on(   of  a   itand  of  liOO  cattle  near 


180 


THE    OX    TEAM    OR 


by.  ^M'hj,  yes,  of  course  they  will  work/  I  said, 
when  a  bystander  had  asked  the  (iiiestiou.  'Why, 
1  have  seen  whole  teams  of  cows  on  the  Plains  in 
■52,  and  they  would  trip  along  so  merrily  one 


BREAKING   THE   COWS. 

Avould  be  tempted  to  turn  the  oxen  out  and  get 
eowa.  Yes,  we  will  soon  have  a  team,'  I  said, 
'only  we  can't  go  very  far  in  a  day  with  a  raw 
teauf,  especially  in  tliis  hot  weather.'  But  one 
of  the  cows  would  n't  go  at  all;  we  could  not  lead 


THE    OLD   OREGON    TIIAIL  181 

or  drive  her.  Tui  lier  iii  tlu;  yoke  aud  she  would 
staud  stock  still  just  like  a  stubborn  luule.  Hitch 
the  yoke  by  a  stroug  rope  behiud  the  wagou  Avith 
a  horse  team  to  pull,  she  would  brace  her  feet 
aud  actually  slide  along,  but  would  n't  lift  a  foot. 
I  never  saw  such  a  brute  before,  and  hope  I  never 
will  again.  I  liave  broken  wild,  fighting,  kick- 
ing steers  to  the  yoke  and  enjo3-ed  the  sport,  but 
from  a  sullen  tame  cow  deliver  me. 

''Won't  you  take  her  back  and  giv(;  me  an- 
other?" I  asked.  ''Yc^s,  I  will  give  you  that  red 
cow  (one  1  had  rejected  as  unlit),  but  not  one  of 
the  others."  ''Then  what  is  this  cow  worth  to 
you?"  Back  came  the  response,  "Thirty  dol- 
lars," and  so  I  dropi^'d  ten  dollars  (having  paid 
him  forty),  lost  the  better  i)art  of  a  day,  expe- 
rienc'd  a  good  deal  of  vexation,  and  came  away 
witli  I  he  exclamalioii,  "Oh,  if  1  could  but  liav(^ 
Twist  back  again." 

The  fact  gradually  dawned  u[)()n  mv.  lln;  loss 
of  that  fine  ox  was  almost  irreparable.  I  could 
not  get  ti-ack  of  an  ox  anywhere  nor  of  even  a 
steer  large  enongli  1o  male  the  Dave  ox,  the  on(! 
T  liad  left,  l^esides.  1)ave  always  was  a  fool.  T 
conld  scarcely  leach  him  anvMiing.  lie  did  learn 
lu   li;i\v.   bv   Ihe   woi'd   when   on    (he  off  si<le,   but 


182  THE   OX   TEAM   OR 

would  u't  luiud  the  word  a  bit  if  on  the  near  side. 
Then  he  would  hold  his  head  way  up  while  in  the 
yoke  as  if  he  disdained  to  work,  and  poke  his 
tongue  out  at  the  least  bit  of  warm  weather  or 
serious  work.  Then  he  did  n't  have  the  stamina 
of  Twist.  Although  given  the  long  end  of  the 
yoke,  so  that  Twist  would  pull  full  fifty-five  per 
cent  of  the  load,  yet  he  would  always  lag  behind. 
Here  was  a  case  where  the  individuality  of  the 
ox  was  as  marked  as  ever  between  man  and  num. 
T^\'ist  would  watch  my  every  motion  and  mind 
by  the  wave  of  the  hand,  but  Dave  never  minded 
anything  except  to  shirk  hard  work ;  while  Twist 
always  seemed  to  love  his  work  and  would  go 
freely  all  day.  And  so  it  was  brought  home  to 
me  more  forcibly  than  ever  that  in  the  loss  of 
the  Twist  ox  I  had  almost  lost  the  whole  team. 

Now  if  this  had  occurred  in  1852  the  loss  could 
liave  been  easily  remedied,  where  there  were  so 
many  "broke"  cattle  and  where  there  were  al- 
ways several  yoke  to  the  wagon.  So  when  I  drove 
out  with  a  hired  horse  team  that  day  with  the 
Dave  ox  tagging  on  behind  and  sometimes  pull- 
ing on  his  halter,  and  an  unbroken  cow,  it  may 
easily  be  guessed  the  i)ride  of  anticipated  success 
went  out  of  me  and  a  feelincr  almost  akin  to 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL         183 

despair  seized  iipou  me.  Here  I  had  two  yokes, 
oue  a  heavy  ox  yoke  and  the  other  a  light  cow's 
yoke,  but  the  cow,  1  thought,  couUl  not  be  worked 
alougsidt'  the  ox  in  the  ox  yoke,  nor  the  ox  with 
the  cow  in  the  cow  yoke,  and  so  there  I  was  with- 
out a  team  but  with  a  double  encumbrance. 

Yes,  the  ox  has  passed ;  has  had  his  day,  for  in 
all  tills  state  1  have  been  unable  to  find  even  one 
yoke.  So  I  trudged  along,  sometimes  in  the 
wagon  and  sometimes  behind  the  led  cattle,  won- 
dei-ing  in  m\  mind  whether  or  no  I  had  been  fool- 
ish to  undertake  this  expedition  to  perpetuate 
tlie  memory  of  the  old  Oregon  Trail.  Had  I  not 
iK'cn  i-cbulTed  by  a  number  of  business  men  push- 
ing the  subject  aside  with,  ''I  have  no  time  to 
look  into  it?"  Hadn't  I  been  compelled  to  pass 
several  towns  where  even  three  i)ersons  could  not 
be  found  to  act  on  the  committee?  And  then 
there  was  the  experience  of  the  constant  suspi- 
cion and  wat<h  to  see  if  some  graft  could  iu)t  be 
discovered;  some  lurking  si)eculation.  All  this 
coubl  be  boru(!  in  patience,  but  when  coupled 
Willi  it  cnnie  the  virtual  loss  of  the  team,  small 
\\(»U(lei-  if  my  s|>iiMts  went  down  Itelow  a  noruial 
coiidjl  ion. 


184  THE   OX   TEAM   OR 

But  tlieu  caiuc  the  coinpeusatory  thought  as 
to  what  had  been  accomplished ;  how  three  states 
had  responded  cordially  and  a  fourth  as  well, 
considering  the  sparse  population.  How  could 
1  account  for  the  difference  in  the  reception?  It 
was  the  press.  In  the  first  place  the  newspapers 
took  up  the  work  in  advance  of  my  coming,  wliihi 
in  the  latter  case  the  notices  and  commendation 
followed  my  presence  in  a  town.  And  so  I  quer- 
ied in  my  mind  as  we  trudged  along, — after  all, 
I  am  sowing  the  seed  that  will  bring  the  harvest 
later.  Then  my  mind  would  run  back  along  the 
line  of  over  1,500  miles,  where  stand  nineteen 
sentinels,  mostly  granite,  to  proclaim  for  the  cen- 
turies to  come  that  the  hand  of  communities  had 
been  at  work  and  i^ilanted  these  shafts  that  the 
memory  of  the  dead  pioneers  might  live;  where 
a  dozen  boulders,  including  the  great  Independ- 
ence Rock,  also  bear  this  testimony,  and  where  a 
hundred  ^^•oo(len  posts  mark  the  Trail  where 
stone  was  unobtainable;  the  cordial  reception  in 
so  many  places;  to  the  outpourings  of  contribu- 
tions of  3,000  school  children ;  to  the  liberal  hand 
of  the  people  that  built  these  monuments ;  to  the 
more  than  20,000  people  attending  the  dedication 
ceremonies.    And  while  I  trudged  and  thought  I 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  185 

forgot  all  about  Twi.st,  the  recalcitrant  cow,  the 
dileuiuia  that  confronted  me,  to  awake  from  my 
reverie  in  a  more  cheerful  mood.  "Do  the  best 
you  can,"  I  said  almost  in  an  audible  tone,  "and 
be  not  cast  down,"  and  my  spirits  rose  almost  to 
the  point  of  exultation. 


186  THE    OX   TEAM   OR 


CHAPTEE  XXII. 

The  Ox  Team  Monument  Expedition 
Concluded. 

KEARNEY,  NEBRASKA. 

AT  THAT  beautiful  city  of  Kearney  we  were 
aecorded  a  fine  camping  place  in  the  center 
of  the  town  nnder  the  spreading  bonghs  of  the 
shade  trees  that  line  the  streets,  and  a  nice  green, 
fresh-cnt  sward  upon  which  to  pitch  our  tents. 
The  peoi)le  came  in  great  numbers  to  visit  the 
camp  and  express  their  approval  a.^  to  the  objects 
of  the  trip.  I  said,  "Here,  we  will  surely  get  a 
s])lendid  monument";  but  when  I  came  to  consult 
with  the  Inisiness  men  not  one  could  be  found  to 
give  np  any  time  to  the  work,  though  many 
seemed  interested.  The  president  of  the  com- 
mercial club  even  refused  to  call  a  meeting  of 
the  club  to  consider  the  subject,  because  he  said 
he  had  no  time  to  attend  the  meeting  and  thought 
most  of  the  members  would  be  the  same.  I  did 
not  take  it  this  man  was  opposed  to  the  proposed 
work,  bnt  honestly  felt  there  were  more  impor- 
tant matters  pressing  npon  the  time  of  business 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TKAIL  187 

men,  and  said  the  subject  could  be  taken  up  at 
their  regular  meeting  in  the  near  future.  As  1 
left  this  man's  office,  who,  I  doubted  not,  had 
spoken  the  truth,  I  wondered  to  myself  if  these 
busy  men  Avould  ever  find  time  to  die.  How  did 
they  find  time  to  eat?  or  to  sleep?  and  I  queried, 
Is  a  business  man's  life  worth  the  living  if  nil 
Ills  wakeful  moments  are  absorbed  in  grasping 
for  gains?  r>ut  I  am  admonished  that  this  query 
must  be  answered  each  for  himself,  and  [  reluc- 
tanlly  came  away  from  Kearney  without  acconi- 
l)lishing  the  object  of  my  visit,  and  wondering 
whether  my  mission  Avas  ended  and  results 
hnislied. 

The  reaiU'r  will  readily  see  that  I  would  be 
the  more  willing  listener  to  such  an  inner  sug- 
gestion, in  view  of  my  crippled  condition  to  carry 
on  the  work.  And  might  not  that  condition  have 
a  bearing  to  bring  about  such  results?  No.  For 
the  ])eople  seemed  to  be  greatly  interested  and 
syni])athetic.  Tiie  press  was  particularly  kind 
in  their  notices,  commending  the  work,  but  it 
takes  time  to  arouse  the  business  men  to  action, 
as  one  remarked  to  me,  "You  can't  hurry  us  to 
do  anything;  we  ar(»  not  that  kind  of  a  set." 
Tliis  was  said  in  a  t(me  bordering  on  the  olfeii- 
sive,  though  perhaps  expressing  only  a  truth. 


188  THE    OX   TEAM   OR 

GRAND  ISLAND. 

I  did  not,  however,  feel  willing  to  give  up  the 
work  after  having  accomplished  .so  much  on  the 
1,700  miles  traveled,  and  with  less  than  200 
miles  ahead  of  me,  and  so  I  said,  "I  will  try 
again  at  Grand  Island,"  the  next  place  where 
t]ier(?  was  a  centc^r  of  population,  that  an  effort 
A\'ould  probably  succeed.  Here  I  soon  found 
there  was  a  decided  public  sentiment  to  take 
action,  but  at  a  later  date — next  year — jointly 
to  honor  the  local  pioneers  upon  the  occasion  of 
the  liftieth  anniversary  of  the  settlement  around 
and  about  the  city,  and  so,  this  dividing  the  at- 
tention of  the  people,  it  was  not  thought  best  to 
undertake  the  work  now,  and  again  I  bordered 
on  the  slough  of  despondency. 

I  could  not  repeat  the  famous  words,  I  would 
"fight  it  out  on  this  lini'  if  it  takes  all  summer," 
for  here  it  is  the  30th  of  August,  and  in  one  day 
more  summer  will  be  gone.  Ninther  could  I  see 
how  to  accomplish  more  than  prepare  the  way, 
and  that  now  the  press  is  doing,  and  sowing  S(?ed 
upon  kindly  ground  that  will  in  the  futun? 
doubtless  bring  forth  abundant  harvest. 

Gradually  the  fact  became  uppermost  in  my 
mind  that   1  was  powerless  to  move;  that  my 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  189 

team  was  goue.  No  response  came  to  the  ex- 
tensive advertisements  for  an  ox  or  a  yoke  of 
oxen,  showing  clearly  there  were  none  in  the 
country,  and  that  the  only  way  to  repair  the 
damage  was  to  get  unbroken  steers  or  cows  and 
break  them  in.  This  could  not  be  done  in  hot 
w(^ather,  or  at  h^ast  cattle  unused  to  work  could 
not  go  under  the  yoke  and  render  effective  service 
without  seasoning,  and  so,  for  the  time  being,  the 
work  on  the  Trail  was  suspended. 

As  I  write  in  this  beautiful  grove  of  the  "old 
court  house  grounds,"  in  the  heart  of  this  embryo 
city  of  Grand  Island,  with  its  stately  rows  of 
shade  trees,  its  modest,  elegant  homes,  the  bustle 
an<l  stir  on  its  business  streets  with  the  constant 
])*issiiig  of  trains,  shrieking  of  whistles,  ringing 
of  bells,  the  reminder  of  a  great  changes  in  con- 
ditions, my  mind  reverts  back  to  that  June  day 
of  1852  when  I  x)assed  over  the;  ground  near 
where  the  city  stands.  Vast  herds  of  buffalo  then 
grazed  on  llic  bills  or  leisurely  crossed  our  (i-ack 
and  at  times  obstructed  our  way.  Flocks  of  an- 
telope frisked  on  the  outskiiMs  or  watched  from 
vantag(*  points.  The  jujiirie  dogs  i-eared  (heii* 
heads  in  ( omical  attitude,  burrowing,  i(  was  said, 
with  the  rntllesnake  and  the  badger. 


190  THE   OX   TEAM    OR 

But  now  tliese  do«>;  colonies  are  gone;  the  buf- 
falo are  gone;  the  antelope  have  disappeared;  as 
likewise  the  Indian.  Now  all  is  changed.  In- 
stead of  the  parched  plain  we  saw  in  1852  with 
its  fierce  clouds  of  dust  rolling  ui>  the  valley  and 
engulting  Avholc  trains  till  not  a  vestige  of  them 
could  be  seen,  we  see  the  landscape  of  smiling, 
fruitful  fields,  of  contented  homes,  of  inviting 
clumps  of  trees  dotting  the  landscape.  The  hand 
of  man  lias  changed  what  w(i  looked  upon  as  a 
barren  plain  to  that  of  a  fruitful  laud.  AVhere 
tlien  there  were  only  stretches  of  buffalo  grass 
now  waving  fields  of  grain  and  great  fields  of 
corn  send  forth  abundant  liarvests.  Yes,  we  may 
again  exclaim,  "'WJiat  wondrous  changes  time  has 
wrouiihtl" 


Tin:  ()ij»  ()i{i:(;(>\  tilvil  101 

CHAPTEE  XXIII. 

A  CHArTER  FOR   CHILDREN. 

IWJI.L  take  you  into  my  confidence,  little 
ones,  and  tell  you  a  fe\y  stories,  but  the}' 
shall  lie  true  and  al)out  my  trips  across  the 
IMaiiis  willi  ox  teams. 

Some  ill  tie  ernes  luiye  innocently  asked  if  these 
oxcM  were  co\ys.  Xo,  they  are  steers  trained  to 
work,  an<l  wlien  tlicy  haye  been  taught  to  ^york 
tlicy  arc  caHed  oxen.  The  names  of  my  team  ar(; 
'I' wist  and  Da  ye,  and  they  are  bi.ui;  oxen  and  the 
two  wcij^h  oyer  a  ton  and  a  lialf. 

I  haye  tlicsc  shod  with  ii-on  shoes,  naih'd  on 
just  like  with  a  liorsc,  but  (►xen  must  liaye  t\yo 
shoes  on  one  Coot  so  their  split   hoofs  can  s])read. 

I  worked  cows  in  my  team  when  I  crossed  th(i 
IMains  in  lSr>L',  Imt  we  still  calle(j  them  cows 
after  they  were  laiiuhl  to  work.  We  used  to 
milk  cows  on  the  tri|;  in  lS,~jL*,  and  ]>nt  the  sur- 
jjlns  milk  in  a  <;in  in  the  waiion,  ami  at  ni.nht 
get  a  nice  lum|)  el'  fresh  bntter.  The  jostliiiii'  of 
t  he  w  ;mnn   would  churn  t  he  inill<. 


U 


192  TIIIO    ox    TKAM    OR 

THE  ANTELOPES. 

One  day  on  this  trip  while  west  of  the  lioeky 
inountaiiis,  iu  the  state  of  Wjomiug,  two  an- 
teloi)es  crossed  the  road  ahoiit  a  hundred  yards 
ahead  of  us,  a  buck  and  a  doe.  The  doe  soon  dis- 
apijeared,  but  the  buck  came  back  to  near  the 
road  and  stood  gazing  at  us  in  wonderment  as  if 
to  say,  "Who  the  miscliief  are  you?'' 

()ur  (h)g  Jim  soon  scented  him  and  away  they 
went  up  the  mountain  side  until  Jim  got  tired 
and  came  back  to  tlie  wagon,  and  then  the  an- 
telope stopj)ed  on  a  little  eminence  on  the  moun- 
tain and  A\e  could  see  him  plainly  against  a  back- 
ground of  sky  for  a  long  distance. 

Another  time  we  actually  got  near  enough  to 
get  a  snaj)  shot  with  our  kodaks  at  two  antelopes, 
but  they  were  too  far  off  to  make  good  pictures. 
Our  road  led  us  obli(|uely  uj)  a  gentle  hill  grad- 
ually approaching  nearer  the  antelope.  I  no- 
ticed he  would  for  awhile  come  toward  us  and 
tluMi  turn  around  and  look  the  other  way  for 
awhile.  After  awhile  we  saw  what  at  first  we 
took  to  ])(^  a  kid,  or  young  antelope,  but  soon 
after  discovered  it  was  a  coyote  wolf  prowling  on 
the  track  of  the  antelope,  and  he  was  watching 
both  of  us.     Just  then  after  I  had  stopped  the 


THi:    (ll-l>    (tUKCOX    TRAU.  103 

wagon,  six  giicat,  i»ig  fat  sage  lieiVs  were  to  be' 
seen  feeding  not  more  than  twice  the  length  of 
the  wagon  away,  just  like  I  had  seen  them  in 
1852. 

Animals  and  birds,  you  know,  are  not  afraid 
of  wliite  people  at  first  sight;  it 's  only  after  they 
learn  of  their  danger  they  become  shy,  after  we 
have  wantonly  mistreated  them  that  they  mis- 
trust us.  This  was  way  out  on  the  Rocky  moun- 
tains where  scarcely  any  one  lives  yet,  and  where 
iho  whole  face  of  the  country  is  nearly  a  mile  and 
a  Iialf  above  sea  level. 

QUARREL  BETWEEN  JIM  AND  DAVE. 

Animals  liave  their  likes  an<l  dislikes  same  as 
men  and  boj's,  and  perha])S  girls,  too.  Early  in 
the  iri]»  our  dog  Jim  and  the  ox  Dave  became 
mortal  enemies.  AMicn  I  walked  and  drove,  Jim 
wdubl  trot  along  beside  nu'  or  at  least  would  stay 
on  iliat  side  of  the  wagon,  and  Twist,  being  on 
I  In-  nigh  side,  ]>aid  Init  lit  lie  attention  to  him, 
but  let  me  get  into  tlie  wagon  to  drive  and  Jim 
would  go  over  on  the  si<le  next  to  Dave,  and  then 
the  (juarrel  would  begin.  Once  Dave  caught  him 
under  the  ribs  with  his  right  horn,  which  you  see 
Ity  the  picture  stands  straight  out  nearly,  and 


194 


THE   OX    TEAM    OR 


tossed  liiiii  over  some  sui^c  hriisli  near  by.  Some- 
timos,  if  the  joke  prevented  liim  from  getting  a 
ehaiire  at  Jim  with  liis  horn,  lie  wonld  tlirow  out 
liis  nose  and  snort,  just  like  a  horse  that  has  been 


ij.\  riii:  lutiDGi:. 


running  at  phiy  and  stops  for  a  moment's  rest. 
]>nt  Jim  wonhl  manage  to  get  even  with  him. 
Sometimes  ^^'e  i)nt  h)Ose  Imj  under  the  wagon  to 
kee]>  it  ont  of  tlie  storm,  an<l  Jim  would  make  a 


THE  OLD  OKKGUN  TKAIL  195 

bod  ou  it,  and  woe  betide  Dave  if  he  undertook  to 
take  any  of  it.  1  saw  Jim  one  day  catch  Dave  by 
the  nose  and  draw  the  blood,  and  you  may  read- 
ily l)elie^'e  the  war  was  renewed  witli  greater 
rancor  than  ever.  This  A\ar  \\as  kept  up  for 
more  tlian  a  thousand  mih'S  of  the  trip,  and  it  is 
only  recently  they  have  ceased  to  quarrel  vig- 
orously, but  they  are  not  yet  friends  to  this  day. 

JIM'S  ADVENTURE  WITH  A  WOLF. 

1  liave  no  doubt  but  Jim  has  traveled  over 
0,000  miles  on  this  trip.  He  would  run  way 
ahead  of  the  wagon  and  then  come  back  on  the 
trot,  and  if  1  was  riding.  invarial)ly  go  clear  back 
of  the  wagon  and  come  ui>  by  Dave,  as  it  might 
appear,  just  to  pick  a  (luarrel  with  him.  Then 
at  other  times  he  would  run  off  first  on  one  side 
of  the  wagon  and  then  again  the  other,  after 
birds,  Jack  rabbits.  s(|nii-iM'ls,  ov  anything  in  tbe 
\v<»rld  ibat  (oubl  get  into  motion.  One  (hiy  a 
coyote  wolf  cr()ss('d  tbe  i'oa<l  just  a  few  rods  be- 
liiiid  the  wagon,  niid  .lim  took  after  biui.  Ft 
b>oked  ;is  tliougli  -lini  woiibl  overtuke  him,  and 
I  was  diiliious  as  to  t  lie  result  ol'atussel  between 
tliem.  :ind  calb'd  Jim  liack.  Xo  sooik'I'  bad  be 
t  urned  t  iiiiii  I  lie  wolf  t  u rued,  too,  and  made  chase. 


19 G  THE    OX    TEAM    OR 

and  here  they  come,  nip  and  tiu-k  as  to  who  conld 
rnn  the  fastest.  I  thiidv  the  wolf  could,  but  he 
did  not  catch  up  until  they  <j;ot  so  near  the  wagon 
that  he  became  frightened  and  scampered  away 
up  the  slope  of  a  hill  near  by.  At  another  time 
a  young  Avolf  came  and  Jim  played  with  him 
awhile,  but  by  and  by  the  little  fellow  snapped 
at  Jim  and  made  Jim  mad,  and  he  bounced  on 
him  and  gave  him  a  good  trouncing. 

^Vhen  the  weather  got  hot,  Jim,  before  we 
sheared  him.  Mould  get  very  warm,  and  when- 
ever the  A\  agon  stopped  lie  would  dig  off  the  top 
earth  or  sand  that  was  hot  so  as  to  have  a  cool 
bed  to  lie  in,  but  he  was  always  ready  to  go  when 
the  Avagon  started. 

ABOUT  PUGET  SOUND. 

Now,  little  ones,  I  expect  you  would  like  to 
know  something  about  life  on  Puget  Sound, 
where  I  have  lived  so  long.  JMaybe  you  do  not 
know  what  kind  of  a  jdace  Pug(^t  Sound  is  any- 
Avay,  and  so  I  will  first  tell  yon,  before  I  tell  you 
about  conditions  there. 

Puget  Sound  is  really  an  arm  of  the  sea  that 
runs  .inland  for  nearly  150  miles  and  ramifies 
into  channels,  around  islands  and  indentures  of 


THE    OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  197 

bays  till  there  is,  by  actual  goverunieut  survey, 
more  than  1,600  miles  of  shore  line  washed  by 
the  tides  of  the  salt  waters  of  the  Pacific  Ocean. 
This  inland  sea,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  is  in 
the  nort Invest ern  part  of  the  great  state  of  Wash- 
ington, and  on  the  shores  of  the  Sound  are  a 
great  number  of  towns  and  some  cities,  Avhere,  in 
the  aggregate,  more  than  300,000  people  now  live, 
but  where  only  a  few  hundred  were  there  when 
J  first  saw  it. 

And  now  as  to  couditions  of  early  life  I  will 
(J note  from  my  book  ''Pioneer  Reminiscences  of 
Pnget  Sound,  The  Tragedy  of  Leschi,"  so  you 
may  know  a  little  of  iiiy  life  out  in  that  far-off 
country  as  well  as  of  luy  I  rips  out  and  back  with 
ox  teams  and  cows. 


198  THE    OX    TEAM    OK 

(CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Eauly  Life  ox  Puget  Hoi  xd. 
WILD  ANIMALS. 

'  ^  I  WJU-.  AM'ite  this  c-liapter  for  the  yoimi^-sk-rs, 
1      and  the  elderlj^  wise-heads  who  wear  specs 
may  turn  over  tlie  leaves  ^^'ith<)nt  readiuj^  it,  U 
tliej  choose. 

"Wild  animals  in  eai-lv  days  were  very  much 
more  plentiful  than  now,  itarticularly  deer  and 
black  bear.  The  black  bear  troubled  us  a  good 
deal  and  would  come  near  the  houses  and  kill 
our  pigs;  but  it  did  not  take  many  years  to  thin 
them  out.  They  were  very  cowardly  and  would 
run  away  from  us  in  the  thick  l)rush,  except  when 
the  young  cubs  were  with  them,  and  then  Ave  had 
to  be  more  careful. 

THE  COUGAR. 

"There  was  one  animal,  the  cougar,  we  Idi 
juight  be  dangerous,  but  I  never  saw  but  one  in 
the  woods.  P.efore  I  lell  you  about  it  I  will  re- 
late an  adventure  one  of  my  own  little  girls  had 
with  one  of  these  creatures  near  by  our  own  hom< 
in  the  Puyallup  valley. 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  199 

^'1  have  written  elsewhere  about  our  little  log 
cabiu  schoolhouse,  but  have  uot  told  how  our 
childreu  got  to  it.  From  our  house  to  the  school- 
house  the  trail  led  through  very  heavy  timber 
aud  rvrij  lieavy  underbrush — so  dense  that  most 
aJ]  the  way  one  could  not  see,  in  the  suunner  time 
when  the  leaves  were  on,  as  far  as  across  the 
kitchen  of  the  house. 

•'One  day  little  Carrie,  now  an  elderly  lady  (I 
won't  say  hoAV  old),  now  living  in  Seatths  started 
to  go  to  school,  but  soon  came  running  back  out 
of  breath. 

*' 'Mamma!  Mauimal  I  saw  a  great  big  cat 
sliariK'uiug  his  claws  on  a  great  big  tree,  just 
like  pussy  does,'  she  said  "S  soon  as  she  could 
catch  hci-  bi-catli.  Sure  eii(»iigli,  u]Mm  examina- 
tion, tliere  were  the  marks  as  high  U])  on  the  tree 
as  I  conld  reach.  It  uiust  have  been  a  big  one  to 
reach  \\\)  the  tree  thai  far.  lint  the  iiicid(Mit  soon 
dropiM'd  out  (if  iiiiiKl  ami  llic  cliildrcii  wciil  (o 
school  oil  llic  I  rail  jusl  llie  same  as  if  ii(»lliiiig 
had  lia]»i)ened. 

"The  way   I    lia|ti»<'iic<l    hi  sec  (he  cougar  was 

'his:       \a-\\     .\Ic.\lili;iii     buiighl     Hil     caltic    and 

ji-ovi-     thfiii     I'l-oiii     <M-('g(»ii     l(»     wiial      wc     liicii 

ised    In    cail     l'|>|M'i'    While    river,    biil     il     was 


200  THE   OX   TEAM   OR 

the  present  site  of  Auburn.  He  had  to 
swiui  his  cattle  over  all  the  rivers,  and  his  horses, 
too,  and  then  at  the  last  day's  drive  brought  them 
on  the  divide  between  Stuck  river  and  the  Sound. 
The  cattle  were  all  very  tame  when  he  took  them 
into  the  White  river  valley,  for  they  were  tired 
and  hungry.  At  that  time  White  river  valley 
was  covered  with  brush  and  timber,  except  here 
and  there  a  small  prairie.  The  upper  part  of  the 
valley  was  grown  up  with  tall,  coarse  rushes  that 
remained  green  all  winter,  and  so  he  did  n't  have 
to  feed  his  cattle,  but  they  got  nice  and  fat  long 
before  spring.  We  bought  them  and  agreed  to 
take  twenty  head  at  a  time.  Uy  this  time  the 
cattle  were  nearly  as  wild  as  deer.  So  Lew  built 
a  A'ery  strong  corral  on  the  bank  of  the  river, 
near  where  Auburn  is  now,  and  then  made  a 
l)rush  fence  from  one  corner  down  river  way, 
which  nuide  it  a  sort  of  a  lane,  with  the  fence 
on  one  side  and  the  river  on  the  other,  and  grad- 
ually widened  out  as  he  got  further  from  the 
corral. 

"I  used  to  go  over  from  Steilacoom  and  stay 
all  night,  so  we  could  make  a  drive  into  the  cor- 
ral early,  but  this  time  I  w^as  belated  and  had  to 
camp  on  tlie  road,  so  that  we  did  not  get  an  early 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL         201 

start  fov  the  next  day's  drive.  The  cattle  seemed 
iiiirulv  that  day,  and  when  we  let  them  out  of 
the  corral  up  river  way,  they  scattered  and  we 
couhl  n't  do  anything-  with  them.  The  upsliot  of 
the  matter  was  tliat  1  had  to  go  home  without 
any  cattle.  AVe  had  worked  with  the  cattle  so 
long  that  it  was  very  late  before  I  got  started 
and  liad  to  go  on  foot.  At  that  time  the  valley 
aliove  Auburn  near  the  Stuck  river  crossing  was 
tilled  with  a  dense  forest  of  monster  fir  and  cedar 
trees,  and  a  good  deal  of  underbrush  besides. 
That  forest  was  so  dense  in  places  that  it  was 
diflicult  to  see  the  road,  even  on  a  bright,  sun- 
shiny day,  while  on  a  cloudy  day  it  seemed  al- 
most like  night,  though  I  could  see  well  enough 
to  keep  on  the  crooked  trail  all  right. 

"WoW,  just  before  I  got  to  Stuck  river  crossing 
1  (  aiiic  to  a  turn  in  the  trail  where  it  crossed  the 
to])  of  a  big  fir  lliat  had  been  turned  up  by  the 
roots  and  had  i alien  nearly  ]»arallel  with  the 
trail.  The  big  roots  held  I  lie  butt  of  the  tree  up 
from  the  ground,  and  I  think  tlu;  tree  was  four 
feet  in  dianu'ter  a  hundred  feet  from  tlie  butt, 
and  (lie  w  hole  body,  from  root  to  top,  was  eighty- 
foiii-  steps  long,  or  aboiil  (wo  liundi'ed  and  fifty 
feel.      I   have  seen   jullgel-  I  I'eeS  lh:in   Iliat,  lliough, 


202  THE    ox    TEAINI   OR 

tmil  l)iii<j;er  ones,  but  there  were  a  jj;reat  many 
like  this  one  standing  all  around  about  me. 

"I  did  n't  stop  to  step  it  then,  but  you  may  be 
sure  I  took  some  pretty  long  strides  about  that 
time.    Just  as  I  stepped  over  the  fallen  tree  near 
the  top  I  saw  something  move  on  the  big  body 
near  the  roots,  and  sure  enough  the  thing  was 
coming  right  toward  me.    In  an  instant  I  realized 
what  it  was.     It  was  a  tremendous,  great  big 
cougar.     He  was  very  pretty,  but  did  not  look 
A^ery  nice  to  me.    I  had  just  had  a  letter  from  a 
nmn  living  near  the  (/hehalis  telling  me  of  three 
lank,  lean  cougars  coming  into  his  clearing  where 
he  was  at  work,  and  when  he  started  to  go  to  his 
cabin  to  get  his  gun  the  brutes  started  to  follow- 
him,  and  he  only  just  escaped  into  his  house,  with 
barely  time  to  slam  the  door  shut,     lie  wrote 
that  his  dogs  had  gotten  them  on  the  run  by  the 
time  he  was  ready  with  his  gun,  and  he  finally 
killed  all  three  of  them.    He  found  they  were  lit- 
erally  starving   and   had,   he   thought,   recently 
robbed   an    Indian    grav(\    or   rather   an    Indian 
canoe  thai  hung  in  the  trees  with  their  dead  in  it. 
That  is  the  way  the  Indians  us<m1  to  dispose  of 
their  dead,  but  I  haven't  time  to  tell  about  that 
noAV.     This  man  found  bits  of  cloth,  some  hair, 


THE  or.i)  ORiXiOX  trail  203 

and  a  piece  of  bone  in  the  stoniaeli  of  one  of  them, 
so  he  felt  sure  he  was  ii_<j;lit  in  his  surmise,  ami  I 
think  he  was,  too.  1  sent  this  man's  letter  to  the 
paper,  the  Olympia  Trait.scr'tpt,  and  it  was 
printed  at  the  time,  but  I  have  forgotten  his 
name. 

"Well,  1  did  n't  know  what  to  do.  I  had  no 
gun  with  me,  and  I  knew  perfectly  well  there 
was  no  use  to  run.  I  knew,  too,  that  I  eould  not 
do  as  .Mr.  Stocking  did,  grai)ple  with  it  and  kick 
it  to  death.  This  one  confronting  me  was  a  mon- 
strous big  one — at  least  it  looked  so  to  me.  I 
expect  it  looked  bigger  tlian  it  realh'  was.  Was 
I  scared,  did  yon  say?  l)id  yon  ever  have  creep- 
ers run  u]»  yonr  back  and  right  to  tlie  i-oots  of 
your  hair.  an<l  nearly  to  the  top  of  your  liead? 
Yes,  I  '11  warrant  you  have,  though  a  good  many 
fellows  won't  acknowledge  it  and  say  it  's  only 
cowards  tlial  feel  tliat  way.  .Afaylte;  but,  any- 
way, I  do  n't  want  to  meet  w  ild  congai's  in  the 
liniltei'. 

''.Ml".  Stocking,  whom  I  sj>oke  about,  lived 
about  ten  uiih's  IVom  Olympia  at  Glasgow's  place, 
lie  was  walking  on  I  hi'  |ti'aii-i<'  and  luijl  a  stout 
young  dog  with  him,  and  came  suddeidy  upon  a 
coui^ar  Iving  in  a  corner  of  the  fence.     His  dog 


204  TIIK    ox    TIOAM    OR 

tackled  the  brute  at  ouce,  but  was  no  match  for 
hiiii,  aud  would  soou  have  been  killed  if  Stocking 
had  uot  interfered.  jNIr.  {Stockiug  gathered  ou  to 
a  big  club  and  struck  the  cougar  one  heavy  blow 
over  the  back,  but  the  stick  broke  and  the  cougar 
left  the  dog  and  attacked  his  master.  And  so  it 
was  a  life  and  death  struggle.  Mr.  Stocking  was 
a  very  powerful  man.  It  A\as  said  that  hit  was 
double-jointed.  He  was  full  six  feet  high  and 
heavy  in  proportion.  He  was  a  typical  pioneer 
in  health,  strength,  and  power  of  endurance.  He 
said  he  felt  as  though  his  time  had  come,  but 
there  was  one,  chance  in  a  thousand,  aud  he;  was 
going  to  take  that  chance.  As  soon  as  the  cougar 
let  go  of  the  dog  to  tackle  Stocking,  the  cur 
sneaked  off  to  let  his  master  tight  it  out  alone. 
He  had  had  enough  tight  for  one  day.  As  the 
cougar  raised  on  his  hind  legs  Stocking  luckily 
grasped  him  by  the  throat  and  began  kicking  him 
in  the  stomach.  Stocking  said  he  thought  if  he 
could  get  one  good  Icick  in  the  region  of  the  heart 
he  felt  that  he  might  settle  him.  I  guess,  boys, 
no  football  player  ever  kicked  as  hard  as  Stock- 
ing did  that  day.  The  difference  was  that  he  was 
literally  kicking  for  dear  life,  while  the  player 
kicks  only  for  fun.     Alb  this  happened  in  less 


TH1-;   OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  205 

time  than  it  takes  me  to  tell  it.  Meanwhile  the 
cougar  was  not  idle,  but  was  clawing  away  at 
Stocking's  arms  and  shoulders,  and  once  he  hit 
him  a  clip  on  the  nose.  The  dog  finally  returned 
to  the  strife  and  between  the  two  they  laid  Mr. 
('ougar  low  and  took  off  his  skin  the  next  day. 
Mr.  Stocking  took  it  to  Ulympia,  where  it  was 
used  for  a  base  purpose.  It  was  stuffed  and  put 
into  a  saloon  and  kept  there  a  long  time  to  at-, 
tract  people  into  the  saloon. 

"Did  my  cougar  hurt  me,  did  you  say?  I 
had  n"t  an}^  cougar  and  had  n't  lost  one,  and  if 
I  had  been  hurt  I  \\  ould  n't  have  been  here  to  tell 
you  this  story.  The  ftm  of  it  was  tliat  the  cougar 
had  n't  yet  seen  me,  but  just  as  soon  as  he  did  he 
scampered  olf  like  the  Old  Harry  himself  was 
after  him,  and  1  strode  off'  down  the  trail  like  old 
Belzebub  was  after  me. 

"Now,  youngsters,  before  you  go  to  bed,  just 
bear  in  mind  there  is  no  danger  here  now  from 
wibl  animals,  and  there  was  not  much  then,  for 
ill  all  llie  liiiK!  1  have  l>een  here,  now  over  fifty 
years,  I  have  known  of  l)ut  two  i)ersons  killed  by 
th(?m. 

"And  now  I  will  tell  you  on(!  more  true  story 
and  then  (piit  for  this  time.    Aunt  Abbie  Sumner 


iJOO  THE    OX    TEAM    OH 

one  evening  lieard  (Jus  -Johnson  liallo\vin<^  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  a  little  wav  ont  from  the  lionse. 
Her  father  said  (Jus  was  jnst  drivini>  np  the 
eow'S,  but  Aunt  Abbie  said  she  never  knew  liini 
to  make  such  a  noise  as  that  before,  and  went  out 
within  speaking  distance  and  where  she  could  see 
him  at  times  pounding  vigorously  on  a  tree  for 
aA\iiile  an«l  then  turn  and  strike  out  toward  the 
brusli  and  yell  so  loud  she  said  she  believed  he 
could  be  heard  for  more  than  a  mile  awa}'.  She 
soon  saw  something  moving  in  the  brush.  It  was 
a  bear,  (lus  had  suddenly  come  ui)on  a  bear  and 
her  cults  and  I'uu  one  of  the  cubs  up  a  tree.  He 
]>ounded  on  the  tree  to  keep  it  there,  but  ha<l  to 
turn  at  tiiues  to  fight  the  bear  away  from  him. 
As  soon  as  he  could  find  time  to  speak  he  told 
her  to  go  to  the  house  and  bring  the  gun,  which 
she  did,  and  that  woman  went  right  up  to  the 
tree  and  handed  (Jus  the  gun  while  the  lu'ar  was 
near  by.  (Jus  nmde  a  bad  shot  the  first  time  and 
wounded  the  bear,  but  the  next  time  killed  her. 
Hut  lo,  and  behold !  he  had  n't  any  more  bullets 
and  the  cub  was  still  up  the  tree.  So  away  v/ent 
Aunt  Abbie  two  miles  to  a  neighbor  to  get  lead 
to  mold  some  bullets.  liut  by  this  time  it  was 
dark,  and  Gus  stayed  all  night  at  the  butt  of  the 


THE  OLD  OKEGON  TRAIL  207 

ti't'e  and  kept  a  tire  Ijuriiiiiii,  aud  next  moruinj;' 
killed  the  eub.  So  he  <j;ot  the  hides  of  both  of 
thenL  This  oceiirred  about  three  miles  east  of 
IJncoda,  and  both  of  the  parties  are  living  in 
sight  of  the  s])ot  where  the  adventure  took  place." 

THE  MORNING  SCHOOL. 

"And  now  I  will  write  another  story  for  the 
youngsters,  the  l)oys  and  girls,  and  the  old  folks 
may  ski]>  it  if  they  wish;  l>ut  1  am  going  to  relate 
true  stories. 

•'Soon  after  the  Indian  war  we  moved  to  our 
donation  claim,  ^^o  had  but  three  neighbors, 
the  nearest  nearly  two  miles  away,  and  two  of 
them  ke])t  bachelor's  hall  and  were  of  no  account 
for  schools.  Of  course,  we  could  not  see  any  of 
our  neighbors'  houses.  ;iud  could  reach  but  one 
by  a  road  aud  the  others  by  a  trail.  I'uder  such 
<-onditious  we  coidd  not  have  a  ]Uiblic  school.  I 
<au  best  tell  ab(uit  our  morning  school  l>y  relat- 
ing ;iii  in<i<l<'nt  lli;it  h;i|»p<'nc(l  ;i  few  niout  lis  after 
it  was  started. 

''One  day  one  of  <»nr  l';irt  lier-otT  neighlxirs,  ^\  ho 

lived    over    I'oui-    miles   away,    came   io   visit    us. 

X;ilur;illy.    the   cliibli-cn    tl<»cked    iir«»uud    him    to 

li<-;ir  his  stories  in   Scotch   brogue,  :in<i   began   to 

14 


208  THE    ox   TEAM   OR 

pl^'  questions,  to  which  he  soon  rcsixjudcd  by 
askinji'  other  questions,  one  of  whicli  was  when 
they  expected  to  go  to  school. 

"  'Why,  we  have  school  now/  responded  a 
chorns  of  voices.    'We  have  school  every  day." 

''  'And,  pray,  A\'ho  is  yonr  teacher,  and  where 
is  your  schoolliousc?'  came  the  prompt  inquiry. 

"  'Father  teaches  us  at  home  every  morning 
before  breakfast.  He  hears  the  lessons  then,  but 
mother  helps  us,  too.' 

"Peter  ^Smith,  the  neighbor  (and  one  of  the 
grou]i  in  the  old  settlers'  meeting),  never  tires 
telling  the  story,  and  ma3d)e  has  added  a  little 
as  memory  fails,  for  he  is  eighty-four  years  old 
now.^ 

''  'Your  father  told  me  awhile  ago  that  you  had 
your  breakfast  at  six  o'clock.  What  time  do  you 
get  u])?' 

''  'Why,  father  sets  the  clock  for  half-i)ast  four, 
and  that  gives  us  an  hour  while  mother  gets 
breakfast,  you  know.' 

"You  boys  and  girls  who  read  this  chapter 
may  have  a  feeling  almost  akin  to  ]u'ty  for  those 


^  Smith  has  died  since  this  was  written.  He  was  one 
of  the  most  respected  pioneers,  possessed  of  sterling  qual- 
ities of  manhood.  Like  Father  Kincaid,  he  was  without 
enemies. 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TKAIL  209 

poor  pioneer  children  who  had  to  get  up  so  early, 
but  you  may  as  well  dismiss  such  thoughts  from 
your  minds,  for  they  were  happy  and  cheerful 
and  healthy,  ^\'orked  some  during  the  day,  besides 
studying  their  lessons,  but  they  went  to  bed  ear- 
lier than  some  boys  and  girls  do  these  days. 

"It  was  not  long  until  we  moved  to  tlie  Puyal- 
lup  valley,  where  there  wei-e  more  neighbors — 
two  families  to  the  square  mile,  but  not  one  of 
them  in  sight,  because  the  timber  and  under- 
brush was  so  thick  we  could  scarcely  see  two 
rods  from  the  edge  of  our  clearing.  Now  we 
could  have' a  real  school;  but  first  I  will  tell 
about  the  schoolhouse. 

"Some  of  the  neighbors  took  their  axes  to  cut 
the  logs,  some  their  oxen  to  haul  them,  others 
their  saws  and  frows  io  make  the  clapboards  for 
the  roof,  while  again  others,  moi'e'  handy  with 
lools,  made  the  benches  out  of  split  logs,  or,  as 
we  called  them,  i)uncheons.  With  a  good  many 
willing  hands,  the  house  soon  received  the  finish- 
ing touches.  The  side  walls  were  scarcely  high 
ciioiigli  loT-  Hie  door,  and  one  was  cut  in  the  end 
;iii(l  ;i  (l<»oi'  liiiiiL!,  on  wooden  liingcs  (liul  S(|neake<1 
;i  good  (leal  when  the  door  was  o]»ene(l  or  shnt; 
bnt  the  cliibli-en   <li(l   m>(    mind   tlial.     Th(i  roof 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  211 

answered  well  for  the  ceiling  overhead,  and  a 
log  cut  out  on  each  side  made  two  long,  narrow 
windows  for  ligiii.  The  larger  children  sat  with 
their  faces  to  the  walls,  with  long  shelves  in  front 
of  them,  whih'  tlie  smnller  tots  sat  on  low  benches 
near  the  iiiichlh'  of  tlie  room.  When  the  weather 
would  ])ermit  the  teacher  left  the  door  open  to 
admit  more  light,  but  had  no  need  for  more  fresh 
air,  as  the  roof  was  quite  open  and  the  cracks 
b<'tween  llie  logs  let  in  ])lenty. 

"Sometimes  we  had  a  lady  teacher,  and  then 
her  salary  was  smaller,  as  she  boarded  around. 
That  meant,  some  discomfort  part  of  the  time, 
where  the  surroundings  were  not  pleasant. 

•'Some  of  those  scholars  are  dead,  some  have 
wandered  to  j»ai*ts  unknown,  while  those  that 
are  left  ;n*e  iiejirly  nil  iiKirried  and  ai'e  grand- 
fallxM-s  or  grandmothers,  but  all  living  r(Mnem- 
ber  tlie  old  log  schoolhouse  with  alTection.  This 
is  ;i  true  ]>iclure,  as  \  re<-ollect,  of  the  early 
S(  lio(»|  (hiys  ill  llic  j*iiy;illii|»  Xiilley,  w  lien,  as  the 
iinkiiow  II   jioct    Ii;is  s;iid  : 

'And  children  did  a  hall'  day's   work 
|{('l'<)iv'   (Ik'v   went    If)  Kcliool.' 


212  THE    OX    TEAM    OR 

"Xot  quite  so  hard  as  that,  but  very  uear  it,  as 
we  were  always  up  early  and  the  children  did  a 
lot  of  work  before  and  after  school  time. 

"When  Carrie  was  afterwards  sent  to  Portland 
to  the  high  school  she  took  her  place  in  the  class 
just  the  same  as  if  she  had  been  taught  in  a  grand 
brick  schoolhouse.  'AVhere  there  is  a  will  there 
is  a  way.' 

.  '"You  must  not  conclude  that  we  had  no  recrea- 
tion and  that  we  were  a  sorrowful  set  devoid  of 
enjoyment,  for  there  never  was  a  happier  lot  of 
people  than  these  same  hard-working  pioneers 
and  their  families.  I  will  now  tell  you  something 
about  their  home  life,  their  amusements  as  well 
as  their  labor. 

''Before  the  clearings  were  large  we  sometimes 
got  pinch(?d  for  both  food  and  clothing,  though  I 
will  not  say  we  suffered  much  for  either,  though 
I  know  of  some  families  at  times  who  lived  on 
l)otatoes  "straiglit."  Usually  fish  could  be  had 
in  abundance,  and  considerable  game — some  bear 
and  plenty  of  deer.  The  clothing  gave  us  the 
most  trouble,  as  but  little  mone^'  came  to  us  for 
the  small  quantity  of  produce  we  had  to  spare. 
I  remember  one  winter  we  were  at  our  wits'  end 
for  shoes.     We  just  could  not  get  money  to  buy 


THE    OLD   OUWJOX    TKAIL  213 

shoes  enoiii;li  to  i;o  around,  but  managed  to  get 
leather  to  make  eaeli  member  of  the  family  one 
pair.  AVe  killed  a  i)ig  to  get  bristles  for  the  wax- 
ends,  cut  the  pegs  from  a  green  alder  log  and 
seasoned  tliem  in  the  oven,  and  made  tlie  lasts 
out  of  the  same  timbei".  Those  shoes  were 
clumsy,  to  be  sure,  Ijut  they  k(.'pt  our  feet  dry 
an<l  warm,  and  we  felt  thankful  for  the  comforts 
vouchsafed  to  us  and  sorry  for  some  neighbors' 
children,  who  liad  to  go  barefooted  even  in  (juite 
cold  weather. 

^'^lusic  was  our  greatest  pleasure  and  we  never 
tired  of  it.  ^'Uncle  John,"  as  everyone  called 
him,  the  old  teacher,  never  tired  teaching  the 
children  music,  and  so  it  soon  came  about  they 
could  read  their  music  as  readily  as  they  could 
their  school  books.  No  Christnms  ever  went  by 
without  a  Christmas  tree,  in  which  the  whole 
iicigliborhood  joined,  or  a  Fourth  of  July  passed 
witlioni  a  cclcbrat  ion.  We  made  llic  presents  for 
the  tre(?  if  xnc  conhl  not  buy  them,  ami  sii]>i»li(Ml 
the  musicians,  reader,  and  orator  for  the  celebra- 
lioii.  Everybody  had  soinctliiiig  to  do  and  a 
voice  ill  sa.\iiiu  what  slioiibl  be  (b»iie,  and  liiat 
xcvy   fact    made  all    happy. 

"We  had  sixleeii  iiiiles  to  go  to  oiii'  market 
lown,    Steihiconiii,   ((\ci-   llie    i-(Migli('sl    kind    of  a 


214  TUE    ox   TEAM    OR 

road.  Nobody  had  horse  teanis  at  the  start,  and 
so  we  had  to  go  with  ox  teams.  We  could  not 
make  the  trip  out  and  back  in  one  day,  and  did 
not  have  mone^^  to  pay  liotel  bills,  and  so  we 
would  drive  out  part  of  the  wa}'  and  camp  and 
the  next  ]uorning  drive  into  town  very  earlj^,  do 
our  trading,  and,  if  possible,  reach  home  the  same 
day.  If  ntjt  able  to  do  this,  we  camped  again  on 
the  road;  but  if  the  night  was  not  too  dark  woubl 
reach  home  in  the  night.  And  oh!  what  an  ap- 
petite we  ^\'oul(l  liave,  and  how  cheery-  the  lire 
would  be,  and  liow  welcome  the  reception  in  the 
cabin  home. 

''One  of  the  'youngsters,'  fifty  years  old  to- 
morrow, after  reading  'The  Morning  School,' 
writes : 

"  'Yes,  father,  your  story  of  the  morning  school 
is  just  as  it  was.  I  can  see  in  my  mind's  eye  yet 
us  children  reciting  and  standing  up  in  a  row 
to  spell,  and  Auntie  and  mother  getting  break- 
fast, and  can  remembei*  the  little  bedroom ;  of 
rising  early  and  of  reading  ''I'nch^  Tom's  Cabin" 
as  a  dessert  to  the  work.' 

"Near  where  the  old  log  cabin  schoolhouse 
stood  our  high  scliool  building  now  stands,  large 
encaigh  to  accommodate^  400  pupils.     In  the  dis- 


TUK  OLD  OREGON  TUAIL  215 

trict  where  we  could  count  nineteen  children  of 
school  age,  with  eleven  in  attendance,  now  we 
have  1,007  l)oys  and  girls  of  school  age,  three 
large  schoolhouses,  and  seventeen  teachers. 

The  trees  and  stumps  are  all  gone  and  l)rick 
huildings  and  other  good  houses  occupy  much 
of  the  land,  and  as  many  people  now  live  in  that 
school  district  as  lived  both  east  and  west  of  the 
moimlaiiis  when  the  Territory  was  created  in 
^iarch,  18.">o.  Instead  of  ox  teams,  and  some  at 
that  with  sleds,  tlu;  ])eople  have  buggies  and  car- 
riages, or  they  can  travel  on  any  of  the  eighteen 
passenger  trains  that  i)ass  daily  through  Puyal- 
lup,  or  on  street  cars  to  Tacoma,  and  also  on 
some  of  the  twenty  to  twenty-four  freight  trains, 
some  of  wliicli  are  a  third  of  a  mile  long.  Such 
are  some  of  tlic  changes  wrought  in  fifty  years 
since  ]>ion('er  life  began  in  the  I'liyallu])  valley. 

"Xow,  just  ivy  your  band  on  Ibis  song  thai  fol- 
lows, one  tli;il  oiii-  dear  obi  Icacbci'  bas  sung  so 
often  foi-  us,  in  couipany  with  one  of  (hose  schol- 
ars of  Ibc  obi  b>g  ciil)iu,  Mi-s.  I<''ranc<'s  Itcjin,  now 
of  TacoiiKi,  who  bas  kindly  sui>i>li('d  tlic  words 
:iu(l    music: 


216  THE    OX    TEAM   OR 

"How  wondrous  are  the  changes 

Since  fitly  years  ago; 
When  girls  wore  woolen  dresses, 

And  boys  wore  pants  of  tow; 
And  shoes  were  made  of  cowhide. 

And  socks  of  homespun  wool; 
And  children  did  a  half  day's  work 

Before  they  went  to  school. 

Chorus — "Some  fifty  years  ago. 

Some  fifty  years  ago. 
The  men  and  the  boys. 
The  girls  and  the  toys; 
The  work  and  the  play. 
And  the  night  and  the  day, 
The  world  and  its  ways 
Are  all   turned   around 

Since   fifty  years  ago. 

"The  girls  took  music  lessons 

Upon  the  spinning  wheel, 
And  practiced  late  and  early 

On  spindle  swift  and  reel. 
The  boy  would  ride  the  horse  to  mill, 

A  dozen  miles  or  so. 
And  hurry  off  before  't  was  day. 

Some  fifty  years  ago. — Cho. 

"The  people  rode  to  meeting 

In  sleds  instead  of  sleighs, 
And  wagons  rode  as  easy 

As  buggies  nowadays; 
And  oxen  answered  well  for  teams. 

Though  now  they'd  be  too  slow; 
For  people  lived  not  half  so  fast 

Some  fifty  years  ago. — Cho. 

"Ah!  well  do  I  remember 

That  Wilson's  patent  stove. 
That  lather  bought  and  paid  for 

In  cloth  our  girls  had  wove; 
And  how  the  people  wondered 

When  we  got  the  thing  to  go. 
And  said  't  would  burst  and  kill  us  all, 

Some  fifty  years  ago. — Cho." 


TEIE    OLD   OREGON    TRAIL  217 


CHAPTER  XX^  . 

Questions  and  Answers. 

FEOjNI  the  very  start,  questions  were  asked 
and  answers  s^iven,  times  without  nund>er, 
one  might  almost  sa^^,  some  quite  pertinent  while 
others  were  prompted  from  idle  curiosity  alone 
and  became  annoying.  A  few  of  these  follow  to 
show  the  drift  of  the  questions,  there  being  but 
a  small  ]>ereentage  that  got  right  down  to  the 
pith  of  I  lie  matter  without  prompting — the  erec- 
tion of  monuments  and  the  teaching  of  history 
to  the  younger  generation. 

The  ciiihli-en  in  ]>articu]ar  were  very  insistent 
to  know  all  about  (lie  expedition,  resulting  in 
rout ribul  ions  from  nearly  three  thousand  of  them 
lo  local  committees  for  erecting  monuments. 
I'roiii  the  natnre  of  the  (piestions  it  became  evi- 
dciil  dial  Inii  few  of  Ihc  cliibli'cii  knew  anything 
ab(»iii  llic  old  Oregon  Trail  oi*  of  the  emigration, 
oi*  what  an  ox  was,  whether  some  wibi  animal 
taiiie<I,  OI-  a  particular  species  of  animals  of 
which  they  had  never  Ix'fore  heai'd.  One  little 
li\'e-\car-ol(l   uii-l.   with    lai-ge  coiitidiiii:.  cncs,  one 


218  THE    OX   TEAM   OK 

(lay  asked  1113-  gTanddaiigliter,  who  was  travel- 
ing with  Jiie,  ''What  is  your  name?"  Not  receiv- 
ing an  iiiunediate  reply,  she  cuddled  up  a  little 
closer,  and  with  a  look  full  in  the  face,  said,  "Is 
your  name  Mrs.  Oxen?"  I  have  been  gravely 
asked  by  grown-up  people  if  those  were  the  same 
oxen  I  drove  in  1852,  some  of  these  in  alleged 
witticism,  yet  in  nmny  cases  in  thoughtless  quer- 
ies.    The  exami)le  questions  follow : 

Q.  How  old  are  those  oxen,  daddy?  It  seems 
to  me  this  one  is  quite  young. 

A.  Yes,  that  ox,  Dave,  was  an  unbroke  range 
four-year-old  steer  when  we  started.  I  broke  him 
in  on  the  road,  the  same  as  1  did  in  1852,  the 
difference  being  the  team  Avas  all  young  and  un- 
broken in  '52,  while  this  other  ox.  Twist,  was 
well  broken  and  is  seven  years  old. 

Q.  Well,  where  are  you  going  with  that  rig? 
It 's  b(MMi  a  long  time  since  I  hav(!  seen  the  like 
of  it. 

A.  I  am  going  first  to  Omaha,  following  as 
near  as  I  can  the  old  Oregon  Trail,  and  then 
drive  on  through  Iowa  and  Illinois  to  Indianap- 
olis, Indiana,  my  real  starting  ]K)iiit  for  Oregon 
in  the  fall  of  1851. 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  219 

(.2.  Gooducss  j^nicious;  you  don't  expect  to 
drive  all  that  distance  with  that  yoke  of  oxen? 
Let  nie  see,  how  far  is  it? 

A.  Yes,  I  exi)ect  to  drive  the  whole  distance 
with  this  one  yoke  of  oxen.  It  is  nearly  3,000 
miles  as  the  waii,(»n  road  runs. 

().  ^y^'\\,  it  's  been  a  long"  time  since  I  have 
seen  one  of  those  old-fashioned  ]n'airie  schoon- 
ers; linch-i)ins  and  all,  eh.  I  declare,  there's 
the  tar  bucket,  too.  >\'ell,  well,  well;  it  i)nts  me 
in  mind  of  old  times,  sure  enoui;h.  jMy  father 
drove  one  of  Ihem  across  the  J/lains  in  '51.  I 
wasonly  a  chunk  of  a  boy  then,  but  I  remember 
the  tri]>  well. 

(].  Of  course  this  is  n'l  (lie  same  wa^m  you 
ci'osscd  ill,  in  '51*,  is  it? 

A.  Oil.  no;  but  llial  liul>  in  llic  near  foi-c  wliecl 
is  fi-oni  a  wa^ou  thai  did  cross  (he  IMaius  to 
Oi-egon  in  IS."):}.  Tliiil  is  llic  oidy  obi  woodwork 
in  this  wa.u'on,  bul  you  will  nolice  all  the  hub 
b;iii(is  inid  s(»ui('  oilici-  parts  of  llic  ii'(ui  woi*k  arc; 
from  obi  WMiioiis.  ^'cs,  ilic  bub  bands  of  (he 
bind  wlieels  do  !!'(  uinlcli  (be  foi-<'  wheels.  You 
sec  I  ii;i(|  (o  use  ( lir  rcniuMnls  of  (hree  old  \\:\ix- 
ons  (o  ucl  IIm-  irons  fcu"  (tuc,  bu(  llinl  is  in  I<('c|>- 
iiiLi  witli  \\iin(   \\;is  (o  Ix' sccu  (mi  IIh'  I'biins  aflcr 


220  THE    ox    TEAM    OR 

people  begau  to  abuudou  their  wa<>ous.  Others 
would  come  along,  take  a  wheel  or  an  axle  to 
streugtlien  tlieir  own  with. 

Q.  Well,  1  never  could  see  what  those  prairie 
schooner  wagon-beds  ^^ere  made  crooked  for, 
could  you? 

A.  No,  I  can't  say  that  I  can,  but  they  came 
in  very  handy  in  crossing  rivers.  They  are  fash- 
ioned just  like  a  boat,  you  know,  on  the  bottom, 
and  answer  very  A^'ell  for  a  boat. 

Q.  But  did  you  ever  see  people  cross  rivers  in 
a  wagon-box? 

A.  Yes.  I  crossed  Snake  river  in  two  places 
myself  in  1852  in  my  wagon-box,  but  that  was 
in  an  ordinary  square  box.  Yes,  I  took  my 
wagon  over  in  it,  or  rather,  on  it,  for  the  run- 
ning-gear was  run  over  the  box  and  gradually 
run  out  into  deep  water  till  the  whole  was  afloat. 

Q.  Say,  Grandpap,  you  do  n't  expect  them  cat- 
tle to  last  you  till  you  get  to  Indianapolis,  do 
you? 

A.  Why  not?  Do  they  look  as  if  they  were 
about  given  out?  That  yoke  of  oxen  Aveighs  170 
pounds  more  than  they  did  when  I  left  home. 

Q.  M'oU.  that 's  a  fact,  they  are  both  good  beef. 
HoAv  much  did  you  say  they  weighed? 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TUAIL  221 

A.  The  luj^t  time  1  weij^Iicd  Iheiu  they  tipped 
the  scales  at  3,217  pounds.  When  I  started  from 
Puyallup  they  weighed  3,130. 

Q.  Uncle,  what  the  mischief  are  you  going  on 
this  long  journey  for  this  way?  Why  do  n't  you 
get  you  a  good,  brisk  horse  team  or  a  span  of 
mules?  Oh,  say,  an  automobile  would  be  just 
the  thing,  wouldn't  it? 

A.  I  am  going  on  this  trip  for  a  purpose,  not 
for  ])l('asur('  or  comfort.  That  purpose  is  to 
arouse  ]Miblic  intcrc^st  in  and  to  perpetuate  the 
memory  of  th"  old  Oregon  Trail,  and  to  honor 
llic  pioneers  Avho  made  it,  by  marking  the  Trail 
at  intersections  with  present-traveled  roads  and 
erecting  stone  uionuuumts,  suitably  inscribed,  in 
centers  of  popnlntion.  You  will  agree  with  me 
tlie  ox  tejim  an<l  old-fashioned  outfit  at  least  ac- 
complislies  the  first  object.  To  do  this  speedily 
;iii(l  cITcclivcly  T  uiust  first  arrest  ])ublic  atlen- 
lion,  iillcr  wbich  I  may  enlist  their  symi)athy 
:iii(i  scciii-c  llicii-  ;iid.  NN'ould  you  liavc  known 
anylhiiig  nboul  tliis  ('X|»(Mlilioii  1i;h1  it  iiol  been 
fo)-  I  be  ox  l<'iun? 

(^.    Xo,    I    wonbl   n(»(,   (Ii;i(  's  a    rad. 

(}.  WIk'Im-  was  il  you  said  you  were  froui, 
riK-lc? 


222  THE    ox   TEAM    OR 

A.  Pinallup,  AN'ashingtou. 

Q.  AVhere  did  you  say  it  is? 

A.  Piiyalliip  is  in  the  valley  of  that  name  about 
uiue  miles  southeast  of  tiu^  city  of  Taconui,  and 
is  on  the  Xorthei'u  I'aeific  railroad,  between  Ta- 
coina  and  ^^eattle,  and  nine  miles  distant  from 
Tacoma  and  thirty  miles  south  from  Seattle. 

Q.  Let  me  see,  what  did  you  say  was  the  name 
of  that  place? 

This  (piestion  was  so  often  asked  and  other 
kindred  (juestions  not  only  on  this  trip  but  else- 
where, I  am  prompted  to  draw  once  more  from 
my  work,  "Pioneer  Eeminiscences  of  Paget 
Sound,"  and  quote  from  my  chapter  on  names  in 
that  work  Avritten  in  lighter  vein,  yet  stricth' 
historical,  for  I  did  have  the  experience  in  New 
York,  as  related,  and  in  London  likewise,  and 
afterwards  on  the  Yukon  i-iver,  and  in  Dawson. 

•'I  have  another  historic  name  to  write  al>out, 
Puyalhi]*,  that  we  know  is  of  Indian  origin — as 
old  as  the  memory  of  white  man  runs.  Put  such 
a  name!  1  consider  it  no  honor  to  the  nmn  who 
named  the  town  (now  city)  of  Puyallup.  I  ac- 
cept the  odium  attached  to  inflicting  that  name 
on  suffering  succeeding  generations  by  first  plat- 
ting a  few  blocks  of  land  into  village  lots  and 


THE  OLD  OKKCON  TKAIL  223 

ire-ordiii"-  tlieiii  uiKlcr  the  uaiiie  of  Puyalliip.  I 
have  been  ashamed  of  the  act  ever  since.  The 
iirst  time  1  went  east  after  the  town  was  named 
and  said  to  a  friend  in  Xew  Yorlv  that  our  town 
was  named  Puyalhij)  he  seemed  starth'd.  'Named 
\\i)at?'  'ruyallii])/  I  said,  ciiiphasiziiio  the  word. 
'That  's  a  jaw-breaker/  came  the  response.  'IIow 
<h)  YOU  spell  it?'  T-u-Y-a-l-l-u-]),'  I  sai<l.  'Let 
uic  see — how  did  you  say  you  i)rouounced  it?' 
I'outing  out  my  iips  like  a  veritable  Si  wash,  and 
('m])liasiziug  every  letter  and  syllable  so  as  to 
brini;-  out  the  Peuw  for  "IMiy,"  and  the  stroui; 
emphasis  on  IJic  "al,"  aud  crackinii'  my  lii>s  lo- 
ud her  1(>  cul  off  the  "lup,"  I  finally  drilled  my 
friend  so  he  could  i)ronounce  the  W(n-d,  yet  fell 
short  of  the  eleiiance  of  the  scientific  pronunci- 
alioii. 

"Tiicii  when  I  ci-ossed  the  Atlantic  and  across 
the  old  London  brid,ii,('  to  the  borouju'h,  and  there 
cncoiinlci  I'd  I  he  ('jH-tors  of  the  hoj)  trade  on  liiat 
histoi'ie  uvouiid,  the  haniits  of  I)i(k<'ns  in  his 
»hiy;  and  when  we  were  bid  (o  be  sealed  lo  pai'- 
lake  of  llie  viands  of  an  eleiiant  dinner;  and  when 
I  s;i\\  ilie  |i-onbled  b»ok  of  my  fi'iend,  whose  lot 
w;is  lo  inlrodnce  me  lo  I  lie  assembled  lioj)  mer- 
clninls,  ;ind  knew  w  lial  was  weiiihinii'  on  his  mind. 


224  THE    UX    TEAM    OK 

my  .syiiipatliY  went  out  to  him  but  remained  help- 
less to  aid  him. 

"  'I  say — I  say — let  me  introduce  to  you  my 
American  friend^my  Anu^rican  frien<l  from — 
my  American  friend  from — from — from' 

'^\nd,  when,  with  an  imploring  look,  he  visibly 
appealed  to  me  for  help,  and  finally  blurted  out : 

"  'I  say.  Meeker,  1  caAV  n't  remember  that 
blarsted  name — what  is  it?' 

"And  when  the  explosion  of  mirth  came  with: 
'All  the  same,  he  "s  a  jolly  good  fellow — a  jolly 
good  fellow." 

"'I  say,  when  all  this  had  happened,  and  much 
more  besides,  1  con  hi  yet  feel  resigned  to  my  fate. 

"Then  when  at  Dawson  1  could  hear  the  shrill 
whistle  from  the  would-be  wag,  and  hear: 

"  'He  's  all  the  way  from  Puy-^Mup,'  1  could 
yet  remain  in  composure. 

"Then  when,  at  night  at  the  theaters,  the  jest- 
ers would  say : 

''  'Wliar  ^^'as  it,  stranger,  you  said  you  was 
from?' 

"  'Puy-al-lup !' 

"'Oh,  you  did?'  f(>llowe<i  l»y  roars  of  laughter 
all  over  the  house — all  this  T  could  hear  with 
seeming  equanimity. 


THE   Or.l)   OREGON    TKAIL  225 

"Jjiit  wlii'ii  lettcTs  began  to  coiuo  addressed 
TeAvlupe,'  Tolly-pup/  'riill-all-iip/  'Pewl-a-loop/ 
and  finally  'Pay-all-ni»,'  tlien  my  enp  of  sorrow 
was  full,  and  I  was  ready  to  pnt  on  sackcloth 
and  ashes.*' 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  227 

CHAPTEK  XXVI. 

At'toiiiography  of  the  Author. 

No  Ai»()LOGY  is  offered  for  this  writing  al- 
tli(>u<^li  no  very  ai)pjirent  reason  may  ap- 
\)VAV  to  call  for  it.  I  am  aware  that  the  life  of 
an  humble  citizen  is  of  not  much  importance  to 
the  public  at  large;  yet,  Avith  a  widening  circle 
of  friends  following  my  advanced  years,  I  feel 
jnstili(Ml  ill  recording  a  few  of  the  incidents  of  a 
very  busy  life,  and  of  portraying  some  customs 
hmg  sinc(!  fallen  into  disuse,  and  relating  inci- 
dents of  early  days  now  almost  forgotten. 

I  was  l/orn  at  lluntsville,  Ilutler  county,  Ohio, 
which  is  about  twenty-live  miles  nortli<'aslerIy 
of  CiiH-innati,  Ohio.  This,  to  me,  iuijtorlaut 
eveiil  occurred  on  Dcccuiber  2!),  A.l).  IS^id,  au<l 
so  I  am  many  years  pasi  the  usual  limit  of  llirce 
score  years  and  ten. 

.My  lallicr's  anceshu-s  came  I'l-oiii  lOiigbnid  in 
KJTb,  sclMcd  ill  j^lizaltclh  ("ity,  New  .Ici'scy,  biiill 
a  ycvy  subslaiilial  sloiic  lioiisc  which  is  still  i>re- 
scrvcd,  fiiriiislicd  moi-c  lliaii  a  score  (►f  hardy 
soidicj-s  in  Hm-  War  for   I  iidcpciidciicc,  and   were 


228  THE    ox    TEAM    OR 

noted  for  their  stalwart  strength,  steady  habits, 
and  patriotic  ardor.  My  father  had  lost  nothing 
of  the  original  sturdy  instincts  of  the  stock  nor 
of  the  stalwart  strength  incident  to  his  ancestral 
breeding.  I  remember  that  for  three  years,  at 
( 'arlyle's  flouring  mill  jn  the  then  western  sub- 
urbs of  Indianapolis,  Indiana,  he  worked  eigh- 
teen hours  a  day,  as  miller.  lie  was  required  to 
be  on  duty  at  the  mill  by  7:00  o'clock,  and  re- 
mained until  10:00  o'clock  at  night  and  could 
not  leave  the  mill  for  dinner; — all  this  for  |20 
a  month  and  bran  for  the  cow,  and  yet  his  health 
was  good  and  strength  seemed  the  same  as  when 
lie  began  the  ordeal.  My  mother's  maiden  name 
was  Phoeba  Baker.  A  strong  German  strain  of 
blood  ran  in  her  veins,  but  I  know  nothing  far- 
ther back  than  my  grandfather  Baker,  who  set- 
tled in  Butler  county,  Ohio,  in  the  year  1801  or 
thereabouts.  My  mother,  like  my  father,  could 
and  did  endure  continuous  long  hours  of  severe 
labor  without  much  discomfort,  in  her  household 
duties.  I  have  kno^\n  her  frequently  to  patch 
and  mend  our  clothing  until  11 :00  o'clock  at 
night  and  yet  would  invariably  be  up  in  the 
morning  by  4:00  and  resume  her  labors. 


THE  OLD  OUEGOX  TRAIL  229 

IJoth  nn'  pareuts  were  siuiei-e,  though  uot  aus- 
tere (  hri.stiau  peoi)le,  my  mother  in  particular 
iueliniiig  to  a  liberal  faith,  but  both  were  in  early 
da3'S  members  of  the  "Disciples,"  or  as  sometimc^s 
known  as  "Xewlites,""  afterwards,  1  believe, 
merged  witli  the  "Christian"  church,  pox>ularly 
known  as  the  "('ampbellites,"  and^were  ardent 
adiiiirci-s  of  Love  Jameson  who  presided  so  long- 
over  the  (  liristian  organization  at  Indianapolis, 
an<l  whom  1  particularly  remendier  as  one  of  the 
sweetest  singers  that   1   ever  heard. 

Small  ^^  onder  that  with  such  parents  and  such 
surroundings  1  am  able  to  say  that  for  fifty-live 
years  of  married  life  1  have  never  been  sick  in 
bed  a  singh'  <hiy,  and  that  I  can  and  liave  en- 
dured b)ng  lionrs  of  lal)or  during  my  whole  life, 
and  wliat  is  more  particularly  gratifying  that  1 
can  li-uthfully  say  that  1  have  always  loved  my 
\\»)i-k  ;ind  1h;il  I  iicNcr  watclied  for  (be  sun  to  go 
down  to  relievf^  me  from  the  burden  of  labor. 

'•Uunjen  of  ial)oi'?"  Why  should  any  man  call 
labor  ;i  bni-dcn?  li  "s  the  sweetest  |deasure  (d' 
life,  if  we  will  lull  lo(»k  ai-ight.  (Jive  me  nothing 
of  the  "man  wiili  the  hoe"  seiitimeid,  as  de])icted 
by  .Markhani.  bui  lei  me  see  the  man  with  a  light 
lie;iii  ;  l|i;it    bdiia's;  lli;ll    I'nllils  ;i  deslin\'  llie  ii(to<l 


230  THE   ox   TEAM    OU 

God  lias  i^iveii  him;  that  tills  au  houored  place 
in  life  ey(m  if  in  au  humble  station;  that  looks 
upon  tlie  bright  side  of  life  while  striving  as  best 
lie  may  to  do  his  dut}^  1  am  led  into  these 
thoui^hts  by  Avhat  I  see  around  about  me,  so 
changed  from  that  of  my  boyhood  days  where 
labor  was  held  to  lie  honorable,  even  though  in 
humble  stations. 

But,  to  return  to  my  story.  3Iy  earliest  recol- 
lection, curiously  enough,  is  of  my  schoolboy 
days,  of  which  1  had  so  few.  I  was  certainly  not 
five  years  old  when  a  drunken,  brutal  school 
teacher  undertook  to  sjiank  me  while  holding 
me  on  his  knees  because  I  did  not  speak  a  word 
jdaiuly.  That  was  the  first  fight  I  have  any 
recollection  of,  and  liardly  know  whether  I  re- 
member that  hut  for  the  witnesses,  one  of  them 
my  oldest  brother,  who  saAV  the  struggle,  where 
my  t(H4h  did  such  excellent  Avork  as  to  draw 
blood  quite  freely.  What  a  spectacle  that,  of  a 
half  drunken  teacher  maltreating  his  scholars! 
l>ut  tlien  that  Avas  a  time  liefore  a  free  school 
SA'stem,  and  Avhen  the  parson  Avould  not  hesitate 
to  take  a  AAce  bit,  and  AAdien,  if  the  decanter  AA'as 
not  on  tlic  sid('l)oai'd,  llic  jng  and  gonrd  served 
as  Avell  in  tlie  field  or  lionse.     To  har\'est  Avithont 


THE  OLD  OKEGON  TRAIL  231 

whisky  iii  the  held  was  not  to  be  thought  of; 
nobody  ever  heard  of  a  loi^-rolliug'  or  barn-rais- 
ing witliout  whisky.  And  so  1  will  say  to  the 
zealous  temperance  reformers,  Be  of  good  cheer, 
for  the  world  has  moved  in  these  seventy-five 
years.  Be  it  said,  though,  to  the  everlasting 
h(jnor  of  my  father,  that  he  set  his  head  firmly 
against  the  practice,  and  said  his  grain  sliould 
rot  in  the  field  before  he  would  supply  whisky 
to  his  harvest  hands,  and  1  liave  no  recollections 
of  ever  but  once  tasting  any  alcoholic  li<piors  in 
my  boyhood  days. 

I  (lid,  liowever,  learn  to  smoke  when  very 
young.  It  came  about  in  this  way:  ]My  mother 
always  smoked,  as  long  as  I  can  remend)er. 
W'oiiicii  lliosc  <lays  smoked  as  Avell  as  men,  and 
iiolliing  was  Ihoiight  of  it.  Well,  that  was  before 
tlic  time  of  matches,  or  leastwise,  it  was  a  time 
when  it  was  thought  necessary  to  economize  in 
ilicii-  use,  and  mother,  who  was  a  corpulent 
woman,  would  send  me  to  i)ut  a  coal  in  her  ]>ip<', 
and  so  I  woubl  tai^c  a  wbilf  or  two,  just  to  get  it 
sijirtcd,  you  Unow,  wlii(li,  liow"e\('r,  soon  <level- 
opcMJ  iiilo  the  h;il(i(  of  lingering  to  keep  it  going. 
r,ul  id  me  be  jiisl  \(>  myself,  for  more  than 
twenty   years   aiio    1    lliicw    away    my    pipe   and 


232  THE   ox   TEAM   OK 

have  uever  .smoked  since,  aud  never  Avill,  and 
now  to  those  smokers  who  say  they  "can't  quit" 
J  want  to  call  their  attention  to  one  case  of  a 
man  that  did. 

My  next  recollection  of  school-boy  days  was 
after  father  had  moved  to  Lockland,  Ohio,  then 
ten  miles  north  of  Cincinnati,  now,  I  presume, 
a  suburb  of  that  ij,reat  city.  I  played  ''hookey" 
instead  of  going  to  school,  but  one  day  while 
under  the  canal  bridge  the  noise  of  passing  teams 
so  frightened  me  that  I  ran  home  and  betrayed 
m3'self.  Did  my  mother  whip  me?  Why,  God 
bless  her  dear  old  soul,  no.  Whipping  of  chil- 
dren, though,  both  at  home  and  in  the  school- 
room was  then  about  as  common  as  eating  one's 
breakfast;  but  my  parents  did  not  think  it  was 
necessary  to  rule  by  the  rod,  though  then  their 
famih"  government  was  exceptional.  And  so  we 
see  noAA'  a  different  rule  prevailing,  and  see  that 
the  world  docs  move  and  is  getting  better. 

After  my  father's  removal  to  Indiana  tiuu^s 
were  "hard,"  as  the  common  expression  goes, 
and  all  members  of  the  household  for  a  season 
were  called  on  to  contribute  their  mite.  I  drove 
four  yoke  of  oxen  for  twenty-five  cents  a  day, 
and  a  part  of  that  time  boarded  at  home  at  that. 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  233 

This  was  on  the  \\'abash  where  oak  grubs  grew, 
as  father  often  said,  "as  thick  as  hair  on  a  dog's 
back,"  but  not  so  thick  as  that.  J>ut  Ave  used  to 
force  the  big  plow  through  and  cut  grubs  with  the 
plow  shear,  as  big  as  my  wrist ;  and  when  we  saw 
a  patcli  of  them  ahead,  then  was  when  I  learned 
how  to  halloo  and  rave  at  the  poor  oxen  and  in- 
considerately whip  them,  but  father  wouldn't 
let  nie  swear  at  them.  Let  me  say  parenthetically 
that  I  have  long  since  discontinued  such  a  fool- 
ish practice,  and  that  now  1  talk  to  my  oxen  in 
a  conversational  tone  of  voice  and  use  the  whip 
s]Kiringly.  ^Vhen  father  moved  to  Indianapolis, 
1  think  in  1838,  ''times''  seemed  harder  than  ever 
and  I  was  put  to  work  whenever  an  opportunity 
for  em]»loy]nent  offered,  and  encouraged  by  my 
motlicr  to  seek  odd  jobs  and  keep  the  money  my- 
self, she,  however,  becoming  my  banker;  and  in 
three  years  I  had  actually  accumulated  |3T. 
^ly!  l)ut  what  a  treasure  that  was  to  me,  and 
wliat  a  bond  of  contidcncc  between  my  motlier 
and  myself,  for  no  one  else,  as  I  thought,  knew 
aiiythiiiLi  altoul  my  I  i-e;isiii-e.  I  {n[\\n\  out  after- 
wards, Ihoiigh,  dial  f;ilhei-  Uiiew  about  i(  all  Ihe 
lime.  My  ambition  was  lo  get  some  laud.  I  had 
heard    there   was  a    loily-aei-e   tract    in    Jleiidri.x 


234  THE    OX   TEAM   Oil 

coimt}'  ( ludiaua)  yet  to  be  entered  at  |1.25  per 
acre,  and  as  soon  as  I  could  get  f  50  together  I 
meant  to  hunt  up  that  hind  and  secure  it.  I 
used  to  dream  about  that  hmd  day  times  as  well 
as  at  night.  1  sawed  wood  twice  to  the  cut  for 
twenty-five  cents  a  cord,  and  enjoyed  the  expe- 
rience, for  at  night  I  could  add  to  my  treasure. 
It  was  because  my  mind  did  not  run  on  school 
work  and  because  of  my  restless  dispositicju  tliat 
my  mother  allowed  me  to  do  this  instead  of 
compelling  me  to  go  to  school,  and  which  cut 
doANii  my  real  s(rhool-boy  days  to  less  than  six 
mouths.  It  was,  to  say  the  least,  a  dangerous 
experiment  and  one  ^\liich  only  a  mother  (who 
knows  her  child  better  than  all  others)  dare 
take,  and  I  will  not  by  any  means  advise  other 
mothers  to  ado]jt  such  a  course. 

Then  when  did  you  get  your  education?  the 
casual  reader  may  ask.  I  will  tell  you  a  storj^ 
AN'licu  in  1870  I  wrote  my  first  book  (long  since 
out  of  print),  "Washington  Territory  West  of 
the  Cascade  Mountains,"  and  submitted  the 
work  to  the  eastern  public,  a  copy  fell  into  the 
hands  of  Jay  Cook,  who  then  had  six  power 
presses  running  advertising  the  Northern  Pacific 
railroad,  and  he  at  once  took  u}*  my  whole  edi- 


THE   OLIt   OKKGON    TKAIL  235 

tioii.  Mr.  Cook,  wlioiii  J  met,  closely  questioned 
me  as  to  where  I  was  educated.  After  having  an- 
swered his  uumy  (lueries  about  ni}^  life  on  the 
frontier  he  would  not  listen  to  my  disclaimer  that 
I  was  not  an  educated  num,  referring  to  the  work 
in  his  hand.  The  fact  then  dawned  on  me  that  it 
was  the  reading  of  the  then  current  literature 
of  the  day  that  had  taught  me;  and  I  answered 
tliat  the  Xew  York  Tribune  had  educated  me,  as 
I  had  then  been  a  close  reader  of  that  paper  for 
eigliteeu  years,  and  it  was  there  I  got  my  ])ure 
l']uglish  <liction,  if  I  ]>ossessed  it.  We  received 
mails  only  twice  a  mcnith  for  a  long  time,  and 
sometimes  only  once  a  month,  and  it  is  needless 
to  sa}'  that  all  the  matter  in  the  paper  was  read 
and  much  of  it  re-read  and  studied  in  the  cabin 
Mild  I  tract  iced  in  jlie  field.  However,  I  do  not 
set  my  face  against  school  training,  but  can  bet- 
ter exi)ress  my  meaning  by  the  ((uainl  saying 
tjiat  "too  iniK-li  of  a  go(»d  thing  is  more  than 
e'KMigli,""  M  ]ilii"is('  in  a  way  senseless,  whi<-li  yet 
(•on\i'.\s  a  dcepei'  meaMing  than  the  lil<'ral  words 
ex|>i'ess.  Tlie  context  will  show  the  lack  of  a 
coiiiinon  scliooj  ('(ln«ali(»n.  alter  all,  was  not  en- 
tirely I'di-  want  <>r  an  oppoi-l  nnity,  bnt  from  my 
a\'ei-si<»n  t<t  eonlinenienl  ami  jti-eference  of  work 
to  sludN'. 


230  THE    ox    TEAM    OR 

In  those  days  apin'ciiticcsliip  was  quite  coiii- 
nion,  and  it  was  not  thought  to  be  a  disgrace  for 
a  chihl  to  be  "bound  out"  till  he  was  twenty-one, 
the  more  especialh'  if  this  involved  learning  a 
trade.  Father  took  a  notion  he  would  "bind  me 
out''  to  a  Mr.  Arthens,  the  mill  owner  at  Lock- 
land,  who  \\as  childless,  and  took  me  with  him 
one  day  to  talk  it  over.  Finally,  when  asked  liOAV 
I  A\ould  like  the  change,  I  prompth'  rei^lied  that 
it  would  be  all  riglit  if  Mrs.  Arthens  would  "do 
up  my  sore  toes,"  whereupon  there  was  such  an 
outburst  of  min'riment  that  I  always  remembered 
it.  We  must  rememlxT  that  boys  those  daja  did 
not  wear  shoes  in  summer  and  quite  often  not 
in  winter  either.  I>ut  mother  put  a  quietus  on 
the  whole  business  and  said  the  family  must  not 
be  divided,  and  it  was  not,  and  in  that  slie  was 
riglit.  Give  me  xhr  humble  home  for  a  child  that 
is  a  home  in  fact,  rather  than  the  grandest  pal- 
ace where  home  life  is  but  a  .sham. 

I  come  now  to  an  important  event  of  my  life, 
when  father  moved  from  Lockland,  Ohio,  to  near 
Tovington,  Indiana.  I  was  not  yet  seven  years 
old,  but  walked  all  the  way  behind  the  wagon 
and  began  building  "castles  in  the  air,"  which  is 
the  first   (but  bv  no  means  the  last)   that  I  re- 


THE   OLD   ()KE(;ON    TKAIL  237 

iiu'iiibcr.  ^^'('  wei'c  ii,()ini;'  out  to  Iiidiami  to  be 
farmers,  and  it  was  here,  near  the  banks  of  the 
^^'abash,  that  I  learned  the  art  of  driving  four 
yoke  of  oxen  to  a  brea Icing  i)lo\v,  witliout 
swearing. 

This  reminds  me  of  an  after-experience,  the 
summer  I  was  nineteen.  Uncle  Jolm  Kinworthy, 
good  old  soul  he  was,  an  ardent  Quaker  who 
lived  a  uiile  or  so  out  from  Bridgeport,  Indiana, 
asked  me  one  day  while  I  was  passing  his  place 
with  three  yoke  of  oxen  to  haul  a  heavy  cider 
])ress  beam  in  place.  This  led  the  oxen  through 
the  fi'ont  dooryard  and  in  full  sight  and  hearing 
of  three  buxom  (Quaker  girls  who  either  stood  in 
the  door,  or  ])oked  their  heads  out  of  the  windows, 
in  (•om]»auy  with  tlu^r  good  mother.  Go  through 
that  fi'ont  yard  past  those  girls  the  cattle  would 
not,  and  ke]»t  doubling  back,  first  on  one  side  and 
then  on  the  other.  Uncle  Johnny,  noticing  1  did 
noi  swear  at  the  cattle,  and  attributing  the  ab- 
sence of  oaths  to  the  ]n-eseiice  of  the  ladies,  or 
maybe,  like  a  i^ood  maii.\'  oihei-s,  he  thought  oxen 
coidd  not  be  drix'eu  wiihoiit  swearing  at  them, 
soiighl  ;in  opporl  unity,  when  the  mish-ess  of  tin? 
lionse  conid  intt  he;ii"  him.  ;ind  s;iid  in  a  low  tone, 
"If  tlM'c   i;in   <b)  ;in\    beltei-,    Ihee   Jmd    better  let 


238  TIIK   ox   TEAM   OR 

out  the  word."  Poor,  j^ood  old  soul,  he  doubtless 
justified  himself  in  his  owu  miud  that  it  was  no 
more  sin  to  swear  all  the  time  than  part  of  the 
time;  and  why  is  it?  I  leave  the  answer  to  that 
person,  if  he  can  he  found,  that  never  swears. 

Yes,  1  say  again,  give  nu'  the  humble  houui  for 
a  child,  that  is  a  home  in  fact,  rather  than  the 
grand(^st  palace  where  home  life  is  but  a  sham. 
And  right  here  is  Avhere  this  generation  has  a 
grave  problem  to  solve,  if  it 's  not  the  gravest  of 
the  age,  the  severance  of  child  life  from  the  real 
home  and  the  real  home  influences,  by  the  factory 
child  labor,  the  boarding  schools;  the  rush  for 
city  life,  and  so  nmny  others  of  like  influences 
at  work,  that  one  can  only  take  time  to  mention 
examples. 

And  now  the  reader  ^^■ill  ask,  \\'hat  do  you 
mean  by  th(^  home  life,  and  to  answer  that  I  will 
relate  some  features  of  my  early  homc^  life, 
though  by  no  means  would  say  that  I  Avould 
want  to  r(!turn  to  all  the  ways  of  "^ye  olden 
times." 

My  mother  alwavs  expected  each  child  to  have 
a  duty  to  perform,  as  well  as  to  play.  Light 
labor,  to  be  sure,  but  labor;  something  of  service. 
Our  diet  Avas  so  simple,  the  mere  relation  may 


THE    OLD    OKKCiOX    TRAIL  239 

create  a  smile  Avitli  the  casiuil  reader.    The  mush 
l)ot  was  a  great  factor  iu  our  home  life;  a  great 
heavy  iron  pot  that  hung  ou  the  crane  iu  the 
chimne}'  corner  where  the  mush   would  slowly 
bubble  and  splutter  over  or  near  a  bed  of  oak 
coals  for  half  the  afternoon.     And  such  mush, 
always  made  from  yellow  corn  meal  and  cooked 
three  hours  or  more.    This,  eaten  with  plenty  of 
fresh,   rich   milk,  comprised  the  supper  for  tlu^ 
children.     Tea?     Not  to  be  thought  of.     Sugar? 
It  was  too   expensive — cost  fifteen   to   eighteen 
cents  a  pound,  and  at  a  time  it  took  a  week's 
labor  to  earn   as   luuch  as  a  day's  labor  now. 
('hca]>  molasses,  sometimes,  but  not  often.     Meat, 
]i<»l  moi'c  IJiau  once  a  day,  but  eggs  in  abuudance. 
lOvcrylliiiig    fallicr    lia<l    l(»   sell    was    l()\v-]>ric('d, 
whih-  cvci-ythiug  mother  must  buy  at  the  store 
was  higli.     Only  to  think  (►f  it,  you  who  complain 
«»(■  tlic  hard  lot  of  the  workers  of  this  generation  : 
wh<'at     I  wciily-tive    cents    a    bushel,    corn    firt<*eu 
cents,  ])<)rk  two  and  two  an<l  a  half  cents  a  i)onnd, 
with   bae(»ii  s(nn<'tinies  used  as  fnel   by  tlu*  r(H-k- 
b-ss,    i-acing   steamboat    captains    of    th(^    ]\Iissis- 
sippi.      I'miI    w  ben    we   get    onto    the   farm    with 
abnndanee  of  frnit    and   vegelabb-s,   with  ]»b'nty 
of  jMimpkin  pies  ami  apple  dumplings,  our  cup  of 
10 


240  THE    ox   TEAM    OR 

joy  was  full,  and  we  >Nei'('  the  happiest  mortals 
on  earth.  As  I  have  said,  4  :00  o'eloek  scarcely 
ever  found  my  mother  in  bed,  and  until  within 
very  recent  jears  I  can  say  that  5  :00  o'clock  al- 
most invariably  finds  me  up.  Habit,  do  you  say? 
No,  not  that  wholly,  though  that  may  have  some- 
thing to  do  with  it,  but  1  get  up  earl}^  because  I 
want  to,  and  because  I  have  something  to  do. 

When  I  was  born,  thirty  miles  of  railroad  com- 
prised the  whole  mileage  of  th(^  United  States, 
and  this  only  a  tramway.  Now,  how  many  hun- 
dred thousand  ndles  1  know  not,  but  many  miles 
over  the  two  hundred  thousand  nmrk.  When  I 
crossed  the  great  states  of  Illinois  and  Iowa  on 
my  way  to  Oregon  in  1852  not  a  mile  of  railroad 
had  been  built  in  either  state.  Only  four  yinirs 
before  the  first  line  was  bnilt  to  Indiana,  really  a 
tramway,  from  Madison,  on  the  Ohio  river  to  In- 
dianapolis. What  a  furor  the  building  of  that 
railroad  created !  Earnest,  honest  men  opposed 
the  building  just  as  sinc(n'ely  as  men  now  advo- 
cate the  public  ownership;  both  pr()])ositions  nvo 
fallacious,  the  one  long  since  exploded,  the  other 
in  due  time  as  sure  to  die  out  as  the  first.  My 
father  was  a  strong  advocate  of  the  railroads, 
but  T  caught  the  arguments  on  the  other  side  ad- 


THE    0\A>   OUEGOX    TUAIL  241 

vocalcd  >\  ith  such  veheuieuce  lus  to  liuvc  the 
sound  of  auger.  AMiat  will  our  farmers  do  with 
their  hay  if  all  the  teams  that  are  hauling  freight 
to  the  Ohio  river  are  thrown  out  of  emplo,yment? 
A\'liat  will  tlie  tavern  keepers  do?  What  will 
become  of  the  wagoners?  A  hundred  such  (juer- 
ies  would  be  asked  by  the  opponents  of  the  rail- 
road and,  to  themselves,  triumphantly  answered 
thai  Ihe  country  would  be  ruined  if  railroads 
were  built.  Xevertlieless,  Indianapolis  has 
grown  from  ten  thousand  to  much  over  a  hun- 
dred thousand,  notw  ithstanding  the  city  enjoyed 
the  iiuusnal  distincticm  of  being  the  first  ter- 
minal city  in  the  state  of  Indiana.  I  remember 
it  was  the  boast  of  the  railroa<l  magnates  of  that 
(lay  that  they  would  soon  increase  the  speed  of 
their  trains  to  fourteen  miles  an  hour, — this 
wIm'U   they  were  running  twelve. 

Ill  llic  ycai'  lsl4  a  letter  came  from  (Jrand- 
latlici-  r.akci-  to  my  motlici'  thai  he  woiibl  give 
lier  a  tlioiisand  <iollai-s  with  wliicli  to-buy  a  farm. 
The  burning  (picst  ion  with  my  fatlici- and  inotlier 
was  Mow  to  get  that  money  out  ri-(tiii  ()liio  io  In- 
diana. Tlicy  acliiiilly  went  in  a  (•ov<'r('d  wagon 
to  Ohio  for  it  and  Iiaiile<l  it  lioiiic,  all  silver  dol- 
lars,  in  a    1m»x, — this  at  a   time  when   lliere  had 


242  THE   ox    TEAM    OR 

been  but  a  few  iiiilliou  silver  dollars  coined  in 
all  of  tlie  United  states.  It  was  this  money  that 
bought  the  farm  five  miles  southwest  from  In- 
dianapolis, A\'here  I  received  my  first  real  farm 
training.  Father  had  advanced  ideas  about 
farming,  though  a  miller  l)^'  trade,  and  early 
taught  me  some  valuable  lessons  I  never  forgot. 
AVe  (I  sa}'  "we''  advisedly,  as  father  continued  to 
work  in  the  mill  and  left  me  in  charge  of  the 
fjii-m)  soon  brought  up  the  run-down  farm  to 
produce  twenty-three  bushels  of  wheat  per  acre 
instead  of  ten,  by  the  rotation  of  corn,  and  clover 
and  then  wheat.  But  there  was  no  money  in 
farming  at  the  then  prevailing  prices,  and  the 
land,  wliich  father  paid  ten  dollars  an  acre  for 
would  not  yield  a  rental  e(jual  to  the  interest  on 
tlu^  money.  Now  that  same  land  is  probably 
worth  five  hundred  dollars  an  acre. 

For  a  time  I  worked  in  the  Journal  printing 
office  for  S.  V.  \\.  Noel,  who,  I  think,  was  the 
publisher  of  the  Journal,  and  also  printed  a  free- 
soil  paper.  A  part  of  my  duty  was  to  deliver 
those  papers  to  subscribers  who  always  treated 
me  civilly,  but  when  I  was  caught  on  the  streets 
of  Indianapolis  with  the  papers  in  my  hand  I 
was  sure  of  abuse  from  some  one,  and  a  number 


THE  OLD  OREGON  TRAIL  243 

of  times  narrow  ly  escaped  personal  violence.  In 
the  office  1  worked  as  roller  boy,  but  known  as 
"the  devil/'  a  term  that  annoyed  me  not  a  little. 
The  pressman  was  a  man  by  the  name  of  ^^'ood. 
In  the  same  room  Avas  a  power  press,  the  power 
iK'ing  a  stalwart  negro  who  turned  a  crank.  We 
used  to  race  with  the  power  press,  and  could 
}>rint  just  half  as  many  sheets  on  the  hand  press 
as  they  could  on  the  vaunted  pctwer  press,  when 
I  would  fly  the  sheets,  that  is,  take  them  off  when 
])rinted  with  one  hand  and  roll  the  type  with  the 
othei'.  This  so  i)leased  Noel  that  he  advanced 
my  wages  to  |1.50  a  week. 

The  ju'eseut  generation  can  have  no  conce])tion 
of  t^lie  brutal  virulence  of  the  advocates  of  slavery 
against  the  "nigger''  and  "nigger  lovers,"  as  all 
wci-c  known  wlio  difl  not  join  in  the  crusa<le 
against  tlie  negroes.  One  day  we  heard  a  com- 
iiiotion  on  the  sti-eets,  and  u])on  in({uiry  were 
johl  that  "they  liad  jiisi  killed  a  nigger  up  llie 
street,  that's  all,"  and  went  back  to  work 
shocked,  but  could  do  nothing.  But  when  a  little 
later  word  came  that  it  was  Wood's  brother  that 
li;id  led  the  iiMtli  and  thai  it  was  "old  Jimmy 
Tilake's  man"  (who  was  known  as  a  sober,  in- 
offensive   colored     man)     <onsternation     seized 


244  THE    ox    TEAM    OR 

Wood  as  with  an  iron  j^Tip.  His  <;ric'f  was  in- 
consolable. The  negro  had  been  set  upon  by  the 
mob  just  because  he  was  a  negro  and  for  no  other 
reason  and  brutally  murdered.  That  murder, 
(•<)n])]ed  ^^ith  the  abuse  I  had  received  at  the 
liands  of  this  same  element,  set  me  to  tliinking, 
and  I  then  and  there  (Miibraced  the  anti-slavery 
doctrines  and  ever  after  adhered  to  them  till  the 
(luestion  was  settled. 

One  of  the  subscribers  to  whom  I  delivered 
that  anti-slav(n'y  i)a])er  \\'as  Henry  AVard  Bee- 
cher,  who  had  tlien  not  attained  the  fame  that 
came  to  him  later  in  life,  l»ut  to  whom  I  became 
attached  l»y  his  kind  treatment  and  kind  words 
he  always  fcmnd  time  to  utter.  He  was  then,  I 
think,  ])astor  of  the  (\mgregational  church  that 
faced  on  the  "Governor's  circle."  The  church 
doid)tless  has  long  since  been  torn  down. 

One  episode  of  my  life  I  remember  because  I 
thought  my  parents  were  in  the  wrong.  Vocal 
music  was  taught  in  singing  schools  almost,  I 
might  say,  as  regular  as  day  schools.  I  was  pas- 
sionately fond  of  music,  and  before  the  change 
came  had  a  splendid  alto  voice,  and  became  a 
leader  in  my  part  of  the  class.  This  coming  to 
the  notice  of  the  trnstees  of  I'eecher's  church. 


THE  OLD  OKEGON  TRAIL  245 

an  ettort  was  uuide  to  have  me  join  the  choir. 
Mother  first  objected  because  my  clothes  were 
not  i>ood  enough,  whereupon  an  offer  was  made 
to  suitably  clothe  me  and  pay  something  besides; 
but  father  oltjected  because  he  did  not  want  me 
to  listen  to  preacliing-  other  than  the  sect  (Camp- 
bellite)  to  which  he  belonged.  The  incident  set 
me  to  thinkiug,  and  finalh'  drove  me,  Toung  as 
1  was,  into  the  Iib(n-al  faith,  though  I  dare  not 
openly  espouse  it.  In  those  days  many  ministers 
openly  ])reached  of  endless  i)unishment  in  a  lake 
of  fire,  but  I  never  could  believe  the  doctrine,  and 
yet  their  words  woubl  carry  terror  into  my  heart. 
Tlie  ways  of  tlie  world  are  better  now  in  this,  as 
ill  iii;niy  oilu'r  respects. 

One  e])is<)de  of  my  life  while  working  in  the 
l)rinting  office  1  liave  remembered  vividly  all 
these  yeai's.  During  the  caiiip;iign  of  1S14  Ihe 
wliigs  held  a  second  gathering  on  (lie  Tii)]»ecan<K' 
bjillie-gronnd.  It  could  hardly  be  called  a  ccmi- 
veiition.  A  better  nniiie  for  the  gathering  would 
be  ;i  ]»oli(i(;il  cjiiiip-iiieet  ing.  ''Plie  ]»eo]»le  came 
in  wagons,  on  horseba<'k,  afoot, — any  way  to  get 
there — and  cami)ed  just  like  i>eoi)le  used  to  do 
in  their  religions  c;nii]>-meetings.  The  joiii-ney- 
llieil    |tl'ill(ers  (>r   tlie  ■/itililidl  olVlce  |»I;ilined    to  go 


248  THE  ox  tea:m  or 

sional''  publication  aud  "sold  by  carrier  only," 
all  this  by  after  liourvS,  when  the  rej^ular  day's 
work  was  finished.  I  picked  up  (initc  a  good 
many  fip-i-na-l>its  (a  coin  representing  the  value 
of  0)1/4  cents)  myself  from  the  sale  of  these. 
After  awhile  the  paper  was  i)ublished  regu- 
larly, a  rate  esta1»]ished,  and  the  little  paper 
took  its  i)lace  among  tlie  regular  ]»ublica- 
tions  of  the  day.  This  writing  is  altogether  from 
mc^mory  of  occurrences  sixty-two  years  ago,  and 
may  be  faulty  in  detail,  but  the  main  facts  are 
true,  A^'hich  probably  will  be  borne  out  by  the 
files  of  the  great  newspaper  that  has  grown  from 
the  seed  sown  by  those  restless  journeymen 
lU'inters. 

This  Avriting  has  already  run  far  beyond  the 
space  allott(Ml  for  it,  and  must  necessarily  lie  sus- 
pended until  a  more  opportune  tinse. 

Horace  Greeley,  writing  of  the  resunij)tion  of 
s])ecie  payment,  said  the  way  to  resume  Avas  to 
resume,  and  applying  that  rule,  the  way  to  sus- 
pend this  writing  is  to  suspend.  So  ends  this 
chapter  and  so  ends  the  book. 


Pioneer  Reminiscences 
of  Paget  Sound 

THE    TRAGEDY  OF   L  ESC  HI 


An  account  of  tlic  coming  of  the  first  Americans 

and  tfie  establishment  of  their  institutions  ;  their 

encounters  with   the   native  race  ;  the    first 

treaties  with  tlie  Indians  and  the  war  tliat 

followed;  seven   years  of   the  life  of 

Isaac    I.    Stevens    in    Washington 

Territory;  cruise  of  the  author 

on   Puget  Sound  fifty  years 

ago;  Nisqually  House  and 

the    Hudson     Bay 

Company. 


From  personal  observation  during 
fifty  years'  residencf,  contem- 
porary  pioneer  reminis- 
cences,    and     other 
authentic  sources. 


By  Ezra  Meeker,  Seattle,  Washington 
1905 


J^ore\vor^ 

In  presenting  you  the  title  page  of  my  work,  '"Pioneer 
Reminiscences  of  Puget  Sound;  The  Tragedy  of  Leschi,"  I 
invite  your  careful  scrutiny  of  the  same  and  respectfully 
solicit  your  order. 

I  have  for  the  two  last  years  earnestly  devoted  my  time 
to  collecting  the  early  history  of  the  Puget  Sound  country, 
comparing  contemporary  testimony,  sifting  out  errors, 
searching  the  publications  of  the  period  of  which  I  have 
written,  and  have  carefully  scanned  all  available  official 
documents  not  lost  or  destroyed,  and  feel  that  I  have  a 
history  as  nearly  correct  as  it  is  possible  to  obtain  with 
the  records  handed  down  to  us. 

I  have  lived  within  about  thirty  miles  of  this  city  con- 
tinuously for  fifty-two  years  and,  of  course,  have  drawn 
largely  on  my  own  recollections  and  personal  experiences 
as  well  as  from  my  contemporaries,  the  living  by  personal 
conference,  and  the  dead  by  their  scattered  writings  yet 
obtainable. 

The  work  is  in  one  volume  of  575  pages,  6x9,  and 
printed  on  the  best  material  possible  to  obtain,  and  bound 
in  elegant  style  in  silk  cloth,  with  twenty-six  illustrations. 

I  am  wholly  dependent  upon  the  sale  of  the  book  to 
repay  the  outlay,  as  I  have  in  no  instance  received  a  dollar 
for  illustrations  to  tickle  the  fancy  of  somebody  or  nobody. 
Neither  have  extracts  been  printed  merely  to  fill  space, 
nor  characters  puffed  for  a  subscription. 

$3.00,  net;    with  "The  Ox  Team,"  $3.50. 

Seattle,  Washington,  May  1,  1905. 

Address  EZRA  MEEKER, 

Omaha, 

Nebraska. 


(Tomnicnts  an^  (^olnmcn^ation0 

•'The  story,  in  Mr.  Meeker's  hands,  is  a  drama  of  intense 
interest.  It  is  history,  too,  not  fiction;  though  it  comes 
through  his  narrative  almost  in  the  nature  of  romance. 
The  book  will  live.  It  will  carry  Mr.  Meeker's  name  down 
to  future  times;  for  it  is  a  book  for  which  there  will  be  no 
substitute.  As  a  record  of  pioneer  life  in  a  section  of  the 
old  Oregon  country  it  will  hold  always  a  distinct  place. 
To  the  striking  individuality  of  the  author,  to  the  vital 
force  of  his  memorj',  to  the  earnestness  and  sincerity  of 
his  convictions,  to  the  vivacity  of  his  early  impressions 
and  to  the  courage  that  ever  has  characterized  him  in  the 
maintenance  of  his  opinions,  we  owe  the  value  of  this 
unique  production.  As  a  contribution  to  our  pioneer  his- 
tory it  will  take  high  place — above  and  beyond  the  con- 
troversies that  surrounded  the  name  of  Governor  Stevens 
in  the  early  history  of  the  territory  of  Washington.  This 
fine  narrative,  in  a  word,  is  the  epic  of  Leschi,  which  has 
dwelt  in  the  mind  of  Mr.  Meeker  these  fifty  years.  Was 
the  Indian  unfortunate  in  his  life  and  death  whose  name 
finds  at  last  an  attempt  at  vindication,  which,  though  per- 
haps not  clearing  it  wholly,  yet  rescues  it  from  perishable 
memory  and  makes  it  immortal?" 

— H.  W.  SCOTT,  Veteran  Editor  Oregonian. 

"A  noted  author  once  remarked,  'There  is  an  art  of 
lying;  there  is  equally  an  art — an  infinitely  more  difficult 
art — of  telling  the  truth.'  This  latter  art  Mr.  Meeker  has 
caught  to  perfection  in  his  Reminiscences.  No  story  of 
pioneer  life  in  the  Northwest,  fact  or  fiction,  so  true  to 
life,  has  yet  appeared.  Wholesome  simplicity  and  fidelity 
to  trutli  are  apparent  on  its  every  page." 

— Seattle  Times. 


"Mr.  Ezra  Meeker  has  completed  his  book,  'Pioneer 
Reminiscences  of  Puget  Sound — The  Tragedy  of  Leschi,' 
and  it  has  already  begun  to  receive  attention  from  the 
press  of  this  and  other  states.  Like  all  books  of  value,  it 
is  being  both  praised  and  censured.  But  those  who  take 
issue  with  Mr.  Meeker,  as  well  as  those  who  praise  his 
work,  evidently  find  it  interesting. 

"He  has.  Indeed,  told  his  story  well,  and  it  is  a  very 
entertaining  one.  He  has  described  the  home-leaving  in 
the  older  states,  the  long  trip  across  the  plains,  with  its 
trials,  dangers,  and  privations,  that  for  the  time  being 
made  man  'brother  to  the  ox,'  without  discpedit  to  either 
in  the  relationship;  the  arrival  in  the  wilderness;  the  dis- 
couragements and  dangers  in  the  new  situation;  the  varied 
experiences  and  noval  adventures  of  pioneer  life,  if  not 
with  the  skill  of  a  practiced  writer,  at  least  with  the  force 
and  clearness  of  one  who  tells,  as  Caesar  did,  of  events 
'all  of  which  he  saw,  and  part  of  which  he  was.'  The 
reader  may  sometimes  wish  that  Mr.  Meeker  had  arranged 
his  narrative  with  more  care  and  embellished  it  with  more 
details,  but  he  will  regret  only  that  there  is  not  more  of  it." 

— Tacoma  Ledger. 

"The  story  is  stirringly  interesting  all  the  way  through, 
and  more  than  once  will  its  passages  remind  the  reader  of 
Irving's  'Astoria.'  Your  sincerity  is  fine,  Mr.  Meeker,  and 
of  very  high  order;  and  the  tender  domestic  touches  cause 
the  whole  to  glow  with  warmth  of  human  sympathy." 

—HELEN   ROGERS.— Private  Letter. 

"Hon.  Ezra  Meeker,  whose  writing  is  familiar  to  the 
readers  of  the  Post-Intelligencer,  has  published  a  hand- 
some volume,  fully  illustrated  photographically,  his  'Pio- 
neer Reminiscences.'  The  book  contains  nearly  600  pages, 
and  is  as  interesting  as  human  documents  can  be." 

— Seattle  Post-Intelligencer. 

i 


"I  have  read  your  delightfully  written  book  with  great 
pleasure  and  interest,  and  have  placed  it  in  my  library 
alongside  of  Dr.  Coues's  edition  of  'Lewis  and  Clark,'  Ir- 
ving's  'Astoria,'  Parkman's  'Oregon  and  California  Trail,' 
Mrs.  Dye's  'McLoughlin  and  Old  Oregon,'  and  'Conquest,' 
Winthrop's  'Canoe  and  Saddle,'  and  I  assure  you  it  is  not 
the  least  p-ized  of  the  lot.  Aside  from  its  absorbing  in- 
terest to  a  Puget  Sounder'  of  almost  twenty  years  of  my 
best  life,  it  has  literary  merit  of  a  high  order." 

T^JUDGE  THAD.  MUST  IN. — Private  Letter. 

"I  congratulate  you  on  the  contents  of  your  book.  It  is 
unique,  interesting,  and  a  most  valuable  contribution  to 
the  early  history  of  the  Puget  Sound  Basin,  and'  should 
find  a  place  in  every  library,  particularly  school  libraries 
in  Washington  state. 

—GEORGE  H.   HIMES.— Private  Letter. 

"I  have  read,  perhaps,  every  book  that  has  appeared  re- 
garding early  days  in  the  Pacific  Northwest,  and  Mr.  Meek- 
er's is  the  best  presentation  of  pioneer  life  I  have  seen." 

—CLARENCE  C.  BAGLEY. 

"This  is  the  most  valuable  narrative  on  the  history  of 
our  state  that  has  come  to  our  notice.  Conscientious  truth- 
fulness characterizes  every  sentence  in  the  book.  .  .  . 
Mr.  Meeker  was  one  of  the  actors  in  the  early  drama.  He 
knows  whereof  he  speaks.  He  possesses  the  courage  of 
his  convictions.*  He  has  written  a  grand  book  of  truth — a 
book  that  will  render  its  author's  name  immortal.  Isaac 
I.  Stevens  was  a  hero,  but  Ezra  Meeker  will  not  worship 
him.  He  is  cognizant  of  the  hero's  faults  and  is  brave 
enough  to  point  them  out.  The  book  will  be  a  safeguard 
to  the  future  historian." 

— J.   M.  TAYLOR,    M.S.,   In   the   Pacific   Mason.     Author  of 
"History  and  flovfinment  of  Washington  State." 


"Everyone  interested  in  the  liistory  of  the  Northwest 
will  welcome  Mr.  Ezra  Meeker's  latest  book,  'Pioneer 
Reminiscences  of  Puget  Sound,  the  Tragedy  of  Leschi,' 
recently  published  by  the  author,  a  well-illustrated  volume 
of  some  550  pages,  covering  the  eventful  period  of  1852-60. 

"Mr.  Meeker  was  one  of  the  early  pioneers,  who,  with 
his  wife  and  six-weeks-old  baby,  crossed  the  continent 
with  a  small  party  in  1852,  stopping  first  on  the  Columbia 
river,  going  from  there  to  Steilacoom,  and  later  making 
his  home  in  other  parts  of  the  Puget  Sound  country,  thus 
being  an  eye-witness  of  some  of  the  most  important  events 
in  the  history  of  our  state. 

"The  book  contains  much  information  regarding  the 
early  history  of  nearly  every  town  on  Puget  Sound,  at 
times  interspersed  with  personal  reminiscences,  told  in  an 
entertaining  manner.  The  author  throws  many  side  lights 
on  the  relations  between  the  United  States  government 
and  the  Indians,  revealing  a  keen  insight  into  the  charac- 
ter of  the  Washington  and  Oregon  tribes,  and  the  causes 
of  the  Indian  wars.  Altogether  the  book  is  an  important 
addition  to  the  literature  of  the  state." 

—MARY  BANKS, 

Secretary  Washington  Library  Association. 


"I  received  your  book  in  due  season,  and  have  read  it 
through — every  .line.  Permit  me  to  congratulate  you  on 
the  excellency  of  the  whole  work. 

"The  plain,  straightforward  way  in  which  you  have  pre- 
sented the  whole  story  is  deserving  the  encomium  of  all 
who  love  the  truth  and  despise  hero  worship. 

"Allow  me  to  thank  you  again  for  the  pleasure  I  have 
found  in  reading  the   'Tragedy  of  Leschi.'  " 

—DR.  H.  C.  WILL  I  SON. — Private  Letter. 


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